Full Circle
by artemis-nz
Summary: A series of unrelated drabbles and ficlets set at various points in their relationship. Conrad/Yuuri.
1. Left Unsaid

**A collection of drabbles and ficlets set at various points in Conrad and Yuuri's relationship. Written in no particular order or timeline, and covering all themes and genres. **

**Got an idea for a chapter? Give me a prompt word/phrase/theme/whatever in a review or PM and I'll do my best to incorporate it into one of these drabbles.**

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"Work fatigue", says Gwendal, frowning to mask his concern. Yuuri fidgets uncomfortably because he hates people worrying about him, so Gwendal shoots a look at Conrad that simply says, _Do something_. Conrad nods his understanding, and by that evening everything has already very quietly and efficiently been arranged.

Conrad and Yuuri are about to take a leap into the temple fountain when Wolfram shows up. Or perhaps he's been waiting for them, because he stays quiet in the shadows, unmoving and watching them. Watching Conrad intently. Conrad knows that Wolfram is watching, and Wolfram knows that Conrad knows, but they both know this is not the time for a confrontation. So Wolfram just shrugs and blinks as if you say, _I can't do anything about it and it's best for Yuuri, but you better not make a move on my fiancé_. _Or else_. Conrad will of course respect Wolfram's wishes, if only because he would not dream of indulging his own whims when Yuuri is so vulnerable.

They arrive with a splash in the outdoor paddling pool that Jennifer has very thoughtfully set up for them again. She hurries forward with towels and fusses as she always does, but Conrad notices at once that she doesn't comment on Yuuri's somewhat haggard appearance. She knows her family better than they think. Her expression is as cheerful as ever, but her glance up at Conrad says, _I trust you. Please take good care of my son_.

Conrad does. He would have anyway, but he is still very conscious of the fact that expectations have been placed upon him (either correctly or incorrectly, and he's not giving away which), and he's not going to disappoint them. He cares for Yuuri too much.

Two days later and Yuuri wanders into the lounge looking much better for wear, if just a little too tired and pale for Conrad's liking. "I'm bored", he says frustratedly, and Conrad hears, _I'm still sleepy but I've been in bed for two days now and there's no way I'm going back upstairs_.

Conrad relents, like Yuuri knew he would. He's adamant that they stay at home, because everyone else is out and he promised, but there's a lot of movies around the place and the couch is big enough for two.

They settle for an old black-and-white samurai film (Shouma collects them), and Yuuri nestles up against him, head supported against Conrad's shoulder. Yuuri makes a valiant attempt at paying attention but falls asleep just before the climactic battle. Conrad's arm has somehow or other made its way around Yuuri's opposite shoulder, his hand buried loosely in Yuuri's dark hair.

This is how Shouri finds them as the credits roll up the screen. He glares. _Don't think I don't know about you_, it says. Conrad doesn't say anything, because he's feeling too peaceful to be bothered with any kind of disagreement, and anyway, he doesn't want to wake Yuuri.

Shouri leaves, presumably to play out his frustrations over what he sees as an undesirable and dangerous relationship by means of a computer game, and Conrad eventually decides that he should move Yuuri somewhere warmer and more comfortable, since his young charge is evidently out for the count.

He makes it all the way to Yuuri's room before Yuuri stirs, stretching a little and blinking owlishly.

"Sorry. Was it a good movie?"

He's still half-asleep, too drowsy to be fully aware of things, but Conrad smiles anyway. As far as he is concerned, that smile is never lost on Yuuri. "Yes. I enjoyed it. Go back to sleep, Heika."

"Yuuri. It's _Yuuri_", he complains, but smiles back anyway. He grips Conrad by the wrist before the soldier can move away. "Don't go."

Yuuri always says what he means unless he has a compelling reason not to. Conrad doesn't move immediately so Yuuri gives a small tug, and then Conrad's pulled down beside him, although the bed is nowhere near as spacious as the couch when they're lying down. It's not exactly cramped though, just cosy.

"'Night, Conrad."

"Goodnight, Yuuri. Sleep well." What that really means is, _I love you. You're making it difficult for me not to show it_.

Yuuri is already softly snoring though, and Conrad knows that this time, at least, there's no real harm in staying. He is content in knowing that if Yuuri continues to be blissfully unaware for now, there is only so much of people leaving things unsaid before even he will catch on.

His expression will probably be priceless. Conrad resolves not miss it.


	2. Happiness Is

**For ****EggDropSoup****. Prompt word: happiness.**

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Yuuri sighed.

Conrad looked across from at him from where they were sitting, dabbling their feet lazily in the fountain – which was probably sacrilege, but nobody had kicked them out yet – and since Yuuri had only just managed to convince Conrad to take off his heavy military boots and join him, neither were in a hurry to leave.

A few moments passed, but Yuuri did not volunteer anything further. "Is something worrying you, Yuuri?" Conrad prodded gently.

"No, not really. Well, yes, maybe a bit. I don't really know."

Conrad smiled inwardly. A typical Yuuri answer. "Perhaps you'd best start from the beginning?"

Yuuri sighed again. "It's stupid really. A school thing. We got given an assignment to do. I know time doesn't pass here in the same way it does back at home, but I can't help thinking about it anyway."

"The assignment is bothering you?"

"Sortof. We each got given a topic. I have to write a few hundred words about happiness."

"Oh?"

"In English."

"Ah."

That made more sense. Yuuri found English a difficult language to grasp, and pronunciation did not come easily. Conrad suspected that Yuuri was far more concerned with learning to read and write the Mazoku script that he had ever been about furthering his English. The fact that Conrad himself spoke more or less fluent, if somewhat halting English himself, probably did not help matters; Yuuri was loathe to betray his own lack of ability.

"Would it be easier if you wrote down what you wanted to say first and then translated afterwards?"

"It would, but I don't know what to say. I mean, I know what happiness feels like, but I don't even know how to say that in Japanese let alone in English."

"Hmm." Conrad watched Yuuri for a minute, considering. "You might be looking at this the wrong way. Instead of attempting to write about what happiness _is_, why not write about what makes _you_ happy?"

Yuuri turned towards him, hope painted clearly on his face. "Can I do that?"

"If all you were told to do was to write about happiness, then I don't see why not."

Yuuri nodded eagerly and leaned back so that the sun could warm his face, his feet continuing to churn the water about languidly. His uniform had almost dried.

Conrad could practically see the relief radiating from him, and waited another moment before asking, "What will you write about?"

"Historical dramas. Sleeping. Baseball. You", Yuuri quickly listed. Conrad blinked in surprise, but could only take it as an encouraging sign that Yuuri had not flooded red in embarrassment.

On closer inspection, Yuuri's cheeks were lightly dusted with colour, but Conrad did not think this was out of self-consciousness, but rather from a kind of satisfaction. Yuuri's smile at Conrad was pure contentment.

Impulsively, Conrad leaned over and kissed him.

Yuuri tasted of water, and warmth, and sunlight. Conrad broke away and looked him in the eye. "You make me happy too", he said in slow and careful English.

Even when Yuuri did blush crimson from head to toe, Conrad still found it endearing.


	3. Counting On It

**For ToniChanLovesCookies. Prompt theme: jealous!Conrad. **

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The dignitary brushed Yuuri's arm as he gestured towards something across the balcony. Conrad fought to quash the warning growl rising from his throat. Again.

As treaties and negotiations became more commonplace as a result of Yuuri's benevolent reign, so did these types of parties become more frequent. Nobody could have been happier for Yuuri than Conrad, who had seen first-hand the frustrations – and at times, the pain – that Yuuri had borne in order to make his vision of peace a reality. They all cared deeply for their king, it was true, and each of them was close to Yuuri in his own way. Yet it was Conrad with whom Yuuri had finally chosen to share his heart – as well as his bed.

It was Conrad, therefore, who saw just how hard Yuuri worked, when everyone else had long since retired for the evening. It was Conrad who quelled Yuuri's fears in the deep of the night, when self-doubt threatened to overwhelm him. And it was Conrad who was allowed to soothe these misgivings; either through patient silence as Yuuri talked, or gentle words as Yuuri wept, or (both their personal favourite), guttural groans as Yuuri trembled beneath him, wanting.

Conrad considered himself a very lucky man.

The problem, he reflected, was that altogether too many people spent too much of their time hoping to steal a little of that luck.

This, Conrad could do nothing about. It was simply a fact of court life that those of both sexes practically flocked around Yuuri, attempting to curry favour on all manner of levels. It had been nearly a year since Yuuri had broken his engagement with Wolfram, but it had been scarcely a week before Yuuri had had to begin dealing with the consequences. Until the Maou announced an engagement again, or otherwise formally declared his intentions concerning someone else, anyone of royal or courtly rank was free to flatter, cajole, entice, or seduce him at almost any given moment.

The people certainly wasted no time.

Conrad found his hand inching towards his sword again, and quickly forced himself to relax even as he noticed that same dignitary – a baron, no less – eliciting a laugh from Yuuri.

"Be still, Conrart. I doubt the negotiations will fare quite so well were you were to slay the guest of honour himself."

"Gwendal. I wasn't… never mind."

"It's unlike you, brother."

Conrad smiled, self-conscious. "I know. But I haven't felt this on edge in years." His muscles loosened for a moment, then tensed again suddenly. "Did you just see that?" The baron had an arm thrown casually about Yuuri's shoulders.

Gwendal snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Heika only has eyes for you." He strode off, and Conrad couldn't help but feel that beneath Gwendal's gruff exterior, his older brother was laughing at him.

And well he might, Conrad knew. He was acting childishly. More importantly, Yuuri was nothing if not faithful, and whilst his naivety and eagerness to befriend anyone and everyone meant that he was often paying attention to those that Conrad would have far preferred Yuuri to leave alone, Conrad also knew with all certainty that Yuuri's heart lay with him.

At least, he _thought_ it did.

Conrad had never dealt with jealousy before. He understood now, for the first time, why people had a tendency to act recklessly whenever this emotion came into play. It could, apparently, make even the most composed of individuals act like fools. Conrad had never been a possessive man, nor one given to emotional insecurity, but it was difficult to maintain his distance when it was someone other than himself in such close physical proximity and obviously flirting with Yuuri – _his_ Yuuri – in such an overly-familiar manner-

Wait, did that man just-?

Breathing deeply, Conrad walked perfectly calmly towards the couple. The baron had leant down to whisper something in Yuuri's ear, and whatever the something was had made Yuuri blush.

"Heika." Conrad interrupted smoothly, not forgetting to aim an apologetic smile at Yuuri's guest. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, but it seems another gentleman has urgent need of you. Something about confusing one of the ladies-in-waiting for a maid-?

Yuuri gaped. "Er… that does sound urgent. Please excuse me for a moment, Lord Hassain."

The baron waved a hand magnanimously. "Of course. But please, do hurry back. And I insist you call me Callum."

Yuuri nodded, smiling weakly and allowing Conrad to hurry him away, neatly sidestepping the crowd and avoiding confrontation by anyone else until they were well outside the boundaries of the reception hall.

Conrad slowed, and Yuuri sagged in relief. "You saved me, Conrad! I couldn't follow half of what he was saying anyway, and besides, I think…" His voice lowered to a conspiratory hush. "I think he was _hitting_ on me, Conrad!"

Conrad could only stare, stunned. "You _think_ he was?"

"Hey, don't laugh!"

Conrad could not help it. Trust Yuuri, after all, to be the last one to know.

Yuuri rubbed his neck in embarrassment. "I guess I needed rescuing anyway though – I should read up more on the customs of other countries. I mean, when someone touches your bottom, is it flirting or just a simple hello?"

"He _what_?!"

"Kidding."

Conrad narrowed his eyes, but Yuuri was unmistakably laughing at him. That made the second time that evening.

"Right."

"Hey, Conrad, wh-!"

There was, thought Conrad, only one way to deal with a mischievous Yuuri. He would personally see to it that nobody else had the opportunity to flirt with Yuuri for the rest of the night.

And between Yuuri's not-particularly convincing protestations and unsuccessfully-smothered moans, Conrad got the distinct feeling that not only did Yuuri not mind, but was in fact counting on it.


	4. Grip

**I fail so hard at drabbles. This one isn't a prompt from anybody, just an idea that popped into my head that I had to write before going to bed.**

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Shin Makoku was a stable land.

At least, Yuuri assumed it was. In all his time living in his second home so far, he had never been given reason to think otherwise.

Of course, this world had its problems. War, for one. This, Yuuri worked diligently to avoid. Then there were the problems that were a part of any place you cared to name. Hunger. Illness. Drought. The sorts of things you circumvented if you could, and helped out in any way possible if you couldn't. Yuuri may have been an idealist, but even he knew that there were certain aspects to any country that were simply a part of life.

The land itself, though – this, Yuuri had never doubted. In spite of its other troubles, or maybe because of them, he had felt safe being here. Secure. Like Shin Makoku was a rock in the middle of the ocean; waves might pour over it, but the rock would stay steady, unmoving when buffeted or even completely submerged.

So when it finally happened, it caught him by surprise.

He froze in his seat, distantly aware of what was occurring, yet too stunned at first to react. The floor had been perfectly still only a moment ago – now it was trembling violently under his feet, and there was a kind of roaring, rumbling sound echoing in his ears.

He only stood up, jolted from his state of shock, when he heard a shriek from outside. His brain finally kicked in. _Earthquake_, his mind supplied helpfully. _Run_.

He ran.

Or at least, he made a valiant attempt to. He had done earthquake drills back on Earth once or twice, mostly at school. An alarm had sounded, and everyone had either clambered underneath their desks, giggling at each other, or else headed for the nearest doorway. Then they had been evacuated, quickly but orderly, a troupe of kids excited at having their regular class disrupted.

This was not the same. For one thing, there was nobody around to laugh with; Yuuri was entirely alone in the library. For another, it was tricky to run when the floor was so unsteady and you had to avoid heavy falling objects from every side. Still, there was no desk or table nearby from which to take shelter, and Yuuri knew that the chairs would be scant protection against an object of any real weight. He therefore stumbled instinctively for the exit, head down and arms over his head.

It was therefore far too late to dodge it. Yuuri did not even really see it, eyes fixed as they were only upon his one means of escape. He heard it though; a low, groaning sound, accompanied by a thousand thumps as a myriad of books cascaded to the floor.

It was all much too fast for Yuuri to be able to process. He automatically skidded to a halt, but there could be no turning back. _Conrad!_, he thought, or else he might have yelled it. He hoped Conrad was okay...

The bookcase knocked the wind from him as it connected. Gasping for air, Yuuri fell to the floor, the shelf squarely atop him. Whether his head struck the floor a little too hard, or whether the impact of the great object combined with already being winded was too much at once for his body to take, he was never quite sure. The sound of his own pained gasp was the last thing he recalled before the black.

And then.

Whenever 'then' was. Shouting. Hands touching his face. Breathing. Breathing was good, even if it hurt. _Yuuri_.

_That's my name_, Yuuri thought, and opened his eyes, coughing slightly at the same time in an attempt to dislodge whatever was still making his breathing difficult.

"Yuuri!"

"Hm?"

Conrad's face was very close to his own, and although his expression was collected enough, Yuuri could hear the alarm in his voice.

"Yuuri, it's okay, don't try to talk. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here."

Yuuri wasn't particularly worried though, and wanted to say so. Unfortunately, this meant taking a very deep breath because it took effort to say something that long. Another cough wormed its way out of his throat instead of words.

"Ow", he said, clenching his eyes shut.

There was a collective hush at this, and Yuuri couldn't figure out why.

"_Yuuri_." Conrad's voice was taught steel. "Please keep very still until I say. Understand?"

"Yes."

There was a trickle of wetness slowly making its way down his chin. Only when Yuuri considered wiping it away did he understand.

_Oh_. _Blood_. His brain very calmly registered this information. "I'm bleeding", he said to himself, securing the thought more firmly in his mind.

Then someone's hand was on his forehead, presumably because there was no other place they could put it, and someone else was counting loudly to three, and a lot of someone's on either side of him were making general noises of concentrated effort.

Yuuri only fully comprehended the fact that most of his body had been buried beneath a wooden bookshelf after the weight had been taken from his chest. He gave a surprised cry, body jerking of its own volition before more than one pair of arms pinned him forcibly to the floor.

"That hurts!"

"Heika, we think you might have an internal injury. Just… just don't move." Gwendal's voice sounded strained.

But Yuuri was calming down again now. "Oh. The blood. Actually, I think I bit my tongue." He blinked in vague confusion as a different pair of hands examined his torso, unbuttoning his shirt, here and there pressing gently.

"I think… I think he's alright", said Gisela, disbelievingly.

That made Yuuri remember something, and he twisted his head back to face his lover. "Conrad! Are you okay?"

Conrad looked as if he were about to laugh and cry at the same time, while at the same time trying hard to do neither.

"Am _I_ okay?" he choked out, before pulling Yuuri very carefully upwards and into a tight embrace. Yuuri breathed in the scent of Conrad, closing his eyes at the sound of a heart beating solidly against his own. _Safe_. _Secure_. _Home_. He wrapped his arms around Conrad then, deciding this counted as permission to move.

"It's okay", he whispered huskily, his mouth near Conrad's ear. "We're okay. I love you." Conrad's breath hitched in his throat, and Yuuri tightened his grip as, desperately relieved, Conrad abandoned all attempts at composure and began quietly to weep.


	5. Letting Go

**No prompt for this one – I just felt like writing a little smut. Beacuse clearly that's what Easter holidays were designed for.**

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Conrad approached the manner of their love-making in the way he did everything else concerning Yuuri; softly, gently, carefully. Well aware that he was, to Yuuri, what the younger man referred to as his 'first', Conrad moved with infinite patience, waiting as long as Yuuri needed him to, never giving nor taking more than Yuuri felt ready with.

Until now.

There was a trembling note to Yuuri's voice when he knocked and called quietly from outside Conrad's door tonight, and when the soldier welcomed him in with a smile, Yuuri swallowed.

"Conrad-"

He was immediately alert, one hand instinctively reaching for a sword that was not there. "Yuuri, what's wrong? What happened?"

"No! No, nothing's wrong, Conrad, I just…" Yuuri paused, biting on his lower lip nervously. "Conrad… you're always just so nice."

Conrad blinked in surprise, and Yuuri hastened to explain.

"I love you, Conrad. And we've been together… you know, _together_ together, for half a year now. So it's alright."

"Yuuri…" Conrad wasn't exactly sure what his lover was trying to say, but something about the way Yuuri was gazing at him – shyly, almost-blushing, but with a look bordering on challenging. Conrad swallowed. "What is alright?"

"You are. You never… when we lie with each other, I get the feeling you're not letting go completely. Like you're afraid to push, or… Conrad. Do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

"Then please. I promise I'll tell you if things get too much, but… I want- I _need_ you not to hold back. Not tonight. I want all of you, Conrad, and I want you to feel like you can give all of you without hurting me. Because I trust you – I always have. Won't you trust yourself for once?"

It was a mark of how far they had come that Yuuri could say all this without a hint of uncertainty, even if, as of yet, he could not quite control the flush of colour that crept over his cheeks.

"I…" Conrad was not used to being at a loss for words.

"Please." Yuuri's dark eyes were upon him, pleading.

"You will say, if-"

"Of course."

Conrad had never quite allowed himself to show just how much he needed Yuuri, physically, in times such as these; too cautious, perhaps, of how Yuuri might react to this knowledge. Now, he reminded himself not to disguise the way he looked at Yuuri, or the fact that he had to force himself steady as he moved to unbutton Yuuri's shirt. His sharply indrawn breath as he felt Yuuri sigh into his ear was clearly audible.

Yuuri's skin was soft and supple under Conrad's hands; Conrad wasted no time in reacquainting himself with every part of Yuuri's flesh. Yuuri shuddered in anticipation as Conrad's mouth traced the contours of Yuuri's neck and down to the angle of his collarbone, and Conrad delighted in Yuuri's answering groan, biting down. Yuuri reached with his arms to pull Conrad closer, encouraging, guiding them both towards the bed.

"Conrad…!"

Conrad did not need any further encouragement after that.

He had not realised that Yuuri could be just as demanding, just as needing, as he himself had often felt. Every trail of kisses, every meeting and parting and meeting again of skin with tongue and teeth, every thrust, was met by Yuuri every bit as forcefully. It did not take long for every scrap of clothing separating their bodies from each to be roughly abandoned, forgotten. Where Yuuri had once needed to be coaxed to relax and allow his body to react naturally, unencumbered by embarrassment or self-consciousness, he now responded with equal fervour, arching into Conrad's embrace, digging into Conrad's shoulders with his fingers and crying out, impatient, spurring Conrad on.

Soon they were both gasping for breath, slick with sweat, lost in a tangle of sheets and limbs and lips, moving over each other, claiming each other for their own, loathe to leave even an inch of the other's skin untouched or unmarked. There was no sense of shame or self-awareness in Yuuri's actions; he moaned when Conrad touched him, stroked him, writhing unrestrainedly, making Conrad want him all the more.

And then Yuuri was underneath him, neither knowing how he had got there, and calling out Conrad's name with such an urgency that Conrad could not have stopped even had he wanted to. He surged forwards, hands gripping Yuuri's wrists bruisingly, his entire being burning almost unbearably with pleasure, and Yuuri's head was thrown back, mouth open, babbling something-

"-Don't stop, please, I can't, you have to!-"

- Before they were both pitched headlong, keening their release, into a vast nothingness, where it was no longer possible to tell the difference between one from another.

Only afterwards, when they had come back to themselves and realised they were two again, did Yuuri collapse, spent, into the shelter of Conrad's chest. His body was tingling, he noticed idly. His lips felt swollen, too; he fingered them lethargically as the memory of how to breathe gradually came back to him.

"… Conrad…?"

"Yes?" It gratified Yuuri that Conrad sounded just as contentedly exhausted as he felt.

"Was that… am I…?"

Conrad's hand found Yuuri's forehead, lightly separating strands of hair from where they clung, damp. "You were – are – perfect."

Yuuri gave a sigh, his head lolling back at Conrad's ministrations. "I like it when you're nice, Conrad. But sometimes, it's definitely more fun when you're…"

"Not quite so nice."

"Mm."

"I'll bear that in mind."

A lazy chuckle. "See that you do."

They slept, cocooned in each other's arms as if still unwilling to let go.


	6. Flowering

**I realise this isn't exactly canon, given how the episode where we see the newest flower plays out, but I couldn't resist, so just go with it.**

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Spring filled the castle with a restlessness that could not be denied.

It was therefore not unusual to see soldiers and servants and sovereigns alike going about their everyday duties at twice the speed than usual, unconsciously hurrying the season onwards as the weather grew warmer, the land greener, the heart itself beating faster; an involuntary reaction to the renewal of the earth.

It was, however, passing strange to see Conrad idle no matter the season. Yuuri stumbled upon him, only partly-accidentally, as the morning gave way to noon. He was hunkered down to the ground, kneeling lightly, seemingly intent on examining something.

"Conrad!"

He turned and smiled his welcome. "Good morning, Yuuri. Or perhaps it should be good afternoon."

Yuuri beamed his appreciation at being called by his name. "What are you doing?"

"Only thinking. Spring is a time for new beginnings." He didn't elaborate.

"Oh." Yuuri knelt next to him. "I still like these", he commented. "Lady Celi planted all of them, right?"

"Most of them", Conrad agreed, and watched Yuuri's hand creep forwards.

His king's fingers brushed softly past the flowers, unthinkingly murmuring each of their names to himself. "Cecille's Red Sigh. Beautiful Wolfram. Secret Gwendal." His hand passed over them all, gentle as the breeze. A pause, and then a glance in Conrad's direction that was almost shy. "Conrad Stands Upon the Earth." The softest touch of them all; a mere whisper of a slender palm, accompanied by a nearly imperceptible blush.

"My mother has a knack for naming things", Conrad mentioned, once he had reminded himself to breathe.

"Mm. Hey, this is a new one isn't it?"

Conrad looked where Yuuri was pointing. "Yes. Mother named that last season. This is its first birth."

It was just starting to unfurl, bravely exploring its new world, petals emitting a golden sheen. Towards the centre it grew darker, a warm earthy brown.

"What's it called?" Yuuri asked, just as Conrad knew he would.

He could not quite keep the fondness from his voice. "Filled With Yuuri's Naivety."

Yuuri laughed, embarrassed. "I should have guessed Lady Celi would plant one after me."

Conrad did not correct him. It was true, after all, that his mother had named all of the flowers that grew in this small garden, and looked after them with care.

That she had not planted this particular flower was something Yuuri did not need to know just yet.


	7. Stay

It was something Conrad had never wanted Yuuri to witness. Yuuri stared, eyes wide in fear and other, unnameable things, his breath beginning to come in sharp, jagged gasps. Conrad wanted nothing more than to shield Yuuri from this.

Yet the carnage could not be avoided; the fields where Yuuri had once ridden had become a killing ground. Worse. A place of slaughter. _Close your eyes_, Conrad wanted to say. _Don't look_. But it was too late for such luxuries. The bodies were everywhere, and still falling before their very eyes, blood seeping into the earth and staining it a deep brownish red. He did not want to know what his own face looked like, streaked with the life of fellow men.

Even had Conrad been able to prevent Yuuri from the sight, it was impossible to prevent the noise. Those men that did not cry out as they died were more than made up for by the cries of their animals; panic-stricken, the horses shrieked their agony, eyes huge and rolling, many now without their riders to steady them. Neither could Conrad protect Yuuri from the smell. Archers equipped with flaming arrows had long since made waste to the surrounding bush; smoke and burning flesh was testament to the chaos they had rendered.

"I…" His voice was barely discernable over the turmoil.

"Heika, you should not be here!"

Yuuri turned to him imploringly. "Conrad-!" His expression abruptly changed from one of horror to an urgent warning, seeing something behind them. His lips moved; Conrad leaned forward to properly hear him.

"What-" When Conrad failed to comprehend, Yuuri shoved him out of the way, forcing him to the ground and crouching above him as though it was he defending Conrad from the world, and not the other way around.

"Don't-" he said, before the sword went straight through him, and it did not stop until Yuuri and Conrad were both looking at the tip, awash in a brilliant scarlet, protruding from his torso.

Yuuri's face registered shock as he glanced up again at Conrad, gazing at him in disbelief as his mouth formed a silent _oh_ of astonishment. Not a sound escaped from his throat.

Until the sword slipped back out, nearly as smoothly as it had upon entering Yuuri's body. The movement was accompanied by a slick, wet sound. He choked, blood streaming from his mouth, and Conrad could do nothing – nothing – as Yuuri found his voice again, and let out an anguished scream.

The scream echoed, magnifying, overpowering Conrad's senses. _**NO**_, Conrad thought, or else he, too, screamed his pain. His body jerked in response, violently enough that the burning, the blood, the very ground beneath him disappeared, everything but the knowledge of losing Yuuri-

To suddenly wake in his own bed, sweating, shuddering, muscles twitching uncontrollably, jerking bolt upright with no collection of having moved at all. Mercifully, a warm body lying next to him. Dry. No blood. No screams. Too much, too fast, too late, too _late_, he couldn't think-

"Conrad?" Yuuri's dark eyes were opening, watching him.

Breathing. He had to learn how to breathe again, and to calm the blood pounding in his heart, and to remember where he was, and to school his features to some kind of normalcy. "Yuuri." His voice betrayed him.

It was enough for his king, his lover, to abandon the vestiges of sleep and sit up worriedly. "What's wrong?"

And Conrad could not stop himself from wrapping his arms around Yuuri's slender form, hugging that warmth flush to his own chest, uncaring, for the moment, of anything else in the world other than Yuuri's heartbeat beating firmly against it.

Yuuri's voice was as quietly reassuring as he knew how. "It's okay. I'm okay."

He did not protest when Conrad pulled him almost roughly closer.

It was not the first time.


	8. Bruise

When Yuuri emerged from outside the castle grounds one afternoon, a purplish bruise already flowering just beneath his left cheekbone, the reactions were varied, and for the most part, predictable.

Gunter lost no time in bursting into tears, and would have run to fetch Gisela that instant had Yuuri had not insisted, very firmly, that he was fine.

Gwendal frowned more deeply than usual, darted a glance between Yuuri and his second brother, and gave a _hmph_ of disapproval – Yuuri wasn't sure if this was aimed at him or at the still-absent Wolfram – before exiting the room.

But Conrad went suddenly still, and remained dangerously silent throughout the commotion. His expression did not change, although Yuuri – who had been admittedly been making something of a study of the soldier's body language – thought he noticed Conrad's jaw abruptly tighten.

Patiently, Yuuri waited for the room to empty, and made sure the door had been closed behind him as he approached Conrad. He smiled, a little sadly.

"It's alright, you know."

"Heika-"

"It sort of seems fitting, don't you think? I mean, this whole thing started when I slapped him, so when you think of it that way, it was probably his turn."

Conrad shook his head, his voice tightly controlled as he replied. "He should not have struck you."

"Maybe. But then again, maybe I deserved it. It was my fault for letting this drag out for so long, just as much as it was his for clinging on to the idea that I… that we…"

He trailed off as Conrad's hand lifted to trace the side of his face, fingers gently brushing over the mark of violence left there by an impulsive sibling. Against his will, those fingers shook.

"He will not touch you in such a way again", he said quietly, and Yuuri closed his eyes and leant in to the touch, in an effort to calm Conrad's rage.


	9. Leap of Faith

Once, he had been thrown from a cliff totally against his will. That he had been thrown from said cliff in exchange for his life hadn't seemed to matter much at the time; Yuuri had never been a big fan of heights to begin with, and Adelbert hadn't exactly been gentle, either – he had simply plucked Yuuri from the ground, lifted him up like a sack of potatoes, and tossed him over before Yuuri had had the chance to do much about it.

Looking back, Yuuri had to admit that the fall had been far less terrifying for all that, if only because there had simply been no time to be scared. There had been only the sky wheeling about, and a sharp intake of breath that must have been his own, and one endless moment of suspension, where the world slowed down almost to a halt as his body fell, helpless against gravity's tides. He had barely felt the numerous scratches of the tree branches as he plummeted through them, and anyway, they had been mostly superficial. Lying in Conrad's arms, gazing up almost dreamily from the protruding cliff-top from where he had been standing only seconds ago, he had felt his breathing calm as Conrad's arms tightened about him.

This time, there was no such easy way out; nobody to make the choice for him. He had been a fool in any case, to land himself in this situation (again).

It wasn't the quite same setting, but it might have well been, complete with a sea of trees below. Yuuri was well aware, as the nameless men approached him, swords extended, that although he did not fear pain, he sure as hell feared throwing _himself_ off a cliff face.

They were expecting him to surrender, of course. He could see it in their faces: _No way is this kid going to jump. The brat has two choices, let himself be captured or be run through._ But as Yuuri took a step back, and then another, he saw their expressions change. Astonishment. Disbelief. Yuuri grinned. At least he would have this small satisfaction to take with him. It did not replace the fear – did not make this insane leap of faith any less terrifying – but it was better than nothing.

He turned and jumped before he could change his mind.

The wind above and around him, and beneath that, his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. That was all. He opened his mouth to gasp, but if he made any sound at all, it was torn from his throat and whipped away before he had a chance to hear it.

Admittedly, the impact as he collided with solid matter was a lot more painful this time round; probably because he had been expecting it. His body curled in on itself, instinctively protecting him from the worst of it. One of the last branches, a particularly thick one, cut cruelly into his side as he tumbled through it. Yelping, Yuuri closed his eyes against the sting.

He opened his eyes when he heard a sudden _Oomph_, and saw that he had ceased to fall. Looking down, he could not quite summon up enough surprise at seeing Conrad there, his torso squarely beneath him.

Conrad, other than being winded, predictably looked none the worse for wear. The soldier's hand crept up to brush Yuuri's face, as if checking to make sure he was real.

"I'm okay, Conrad." His voice came out a little wobbly, but he was definitely alive, and felt well enough to scramble from atop Conrad and allow the man to at least breathe properly.

Conrad stretched out but remained where he was, so Yuuri lay beside him. Side by side as they lay staring up at the few leaves that continued to fall from the damaged foliage, Yuuri had to admit that in spite of everything, he had definitely made the right decision.

"I hope you weren't thinking of making a habit of this, Heika." Conrad's tone conveyed exasperation, but Yuuri thought he detected a kind of vague amusement there as well.

"I wasn't planning on it. Honestly."

"Well. Please just don't do it again."

"… Promise." Conrad's eyes widened at suddenly hearing Yuuri's voice right beside his ear, before he smiled and relaxed.

"You're hurt. We shouldn't", he said, and Yuuri could tell from the warmth in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss him – Conrad thought Yuuri had made the right decision as well.


	10. An Honest Man

Yuuri likes to hear Conrad's laugh.

He likes the sound of it; the way it trickles from Conrad's mouth, a warm and honest tone not unlike the way the rest of Conrad feels whenever he holds Yuuri in his arms. It suits him.

Yuuri likes being the reason for Conrad's laugh, too.

Conrad smiles often, but Yuuri had noticed almost immediately that the soldier's laughter is far more rare. He does not miss, either, the way in which Gwendal's expression softens almost imperceptibly upon hearing it, or the mild surprise on Gunter's face, like he has forgotten that it is possible for Conrad to make a sound like that. So Yuuri doesn't mind that it is his own awkward clumsiness, his comical misunderstandings, his whimsical naivety, that are for the most part responsible for them. Conrad can smile all he likes (and does so at times with alarming regularity), but his laughter, at least, can always be counted upon to be genuine. Yuuri treasures every one of them.

This does not change even when instinct gives way to knowledge, nor friendship to love of another kind. Yuuri grows to recognise certain smiles for what they are, and resolves that self-control will not keep him from the Conrad that lies beneath them all – a Conrad that Yuuri continues to love, long after words like _Ruttenburg_ and _Julia_ have come to mean something more. If he can still make Conrad laugh, if Conrad is still capable of eliciting such a sound as to make Yuuri grin with the sheer pleasure of bearing witness to it, then it is enough.

"Conrad?"

It all flashes through his head in the time it takes to draw breath as he opens his eyes to see Conrad sitting up in bed, stock-still and unblinking. Yuuri quickly shakes his head, clearing himself properly from sleep.

"Conrad, are you-"

"I'm fine, Yuuri."

Only Conrad answers too quickly, and although his bearing is perfectly calm, Yuuri can feel the vibrations under his fingertips when his hand finds Conrad's chest. Through the grey of the pre-dawn light, Yuuri sees Conrad smile.

"Oh", says Yuuri quietly. And then, when he has found what he wants to say, "You're always there for me. Won't you let me be strong for you this time?"

Conrad stares for a moment, before mercifully letting slip that smile. "I'm sorry", he says.

"No, don't be. I love you, Conrad. All of you. Please believe me."

His voice is too earnest for Conrad to refuse him.

"I do believe you."

When their bodies draw together, each supporting the other, Conrad does not attempt to mask the silent trembling of his shoulders, and Yuuri, understanding that this, too, is something to be treasured, holds Conrad as close as he dares. Conrad's grief is rarer still than his laughter, yet he trusts Yuuri with it. And if Conrad's laughter is honest, then his pain is breathtakingly sincere.

At the very least, Yuuri knows it means that Conrad's laughter can not fail but to follow.

He vows to keep safe Conrad's happiness for him until it does.


	11. The Longest Night

They were too late by far.

Demons fighting humans, humans fighting themselves… none of it mattered anymore – there could be no racial distinction in death. Now there were more people, civilians, moving in to attempt to claim the bodies of their loved ones for proper burial. Unable to draw his eyes away, Yuuri watched as a young woman, heavy with child, picked her way slowly through the broken shells of what had once been people. Already the flies were beginning to gather.

The rain came without warning. In seconds it had become a downpour, soaking everyone and everything to the bone. Eerily, not a single gust of wind accompanied it; there was only the rain, hard enough to bruise, drowning out the shouts of alarm. Surrounding tress bowed under the weight of it, and upchurned soil turned to slush. Conrad, forcing his eyes open, caught a glimpse of the Maou, head thrown back and mouth wide open, although any sound that even he made was lost in the torrent.

It seemed to Conrad it took an age to reach him. The Maou paid no heed to the arms that enfolded him, but Conrad waited, not saying a word, and whether it was moments of hours afterwards, the rain stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Then there was only a boy, hands desperately covering his face, and a ragged scream that tore the sudden silence apart.

Conrad allowed this for as long as it took Yuuri's legs to refuse to bear his weight, and then Conrad simply knelt in the mud, pressing Yuuri closely to him to smother the sounds.

Later on that day, although Yuuri was scarcely aware of it, it was Conrad who held him as he vomited, emptying the contents of his stomach into the basin that had been provided. When there was nothing left to come up, Conrad smoothed the hair back from Yuuri's forehead as he dry retched, murmuring words that passed Yuuri by like phantoms. He slid into a fitful doze soon after, and Conrad continued to hold him through the night, calming him each time his half-dreams were interrupted with a cry.

Conrad did not let go until tendrils of sunlight had once more crept through the windows, and Yuuri, exhausted, finally slept more peacefully. The soldier stole noiselessly from the room, then, nodding to the healer who waited at the threshold, and he did not have the strength left that it took to mask his heartbreak.


	12. Obsessions

They each had their quirks when it came to each other – their own means, albeit perhaps unconsciously, of expressing their affections.

Yuuri noticed right away that Conrad appeared to have something of an obsession with his neck.

Not that he minded, of course – and in fact, whenever he stopped to think about it, a pleasant little shiver made its way up his spine (not to mention in certain other places), even when Conrad wasn't in the room. He supposed he should be grateful that the collar of his school uniform was just high enough to cover the evidence of their lovemaking; everyone knew, by now, the nature of the relationship between Conrad and he, but that was different to parading it around in public, and anyway, both of them usually preferred to keep things discreet.

Still, every time they lay together, it seemed that Conrad could never quite bring himself to leave Yuuri's neck alone. It was as if he were drawn to it, compelled even, to trace that sensitive curve from shoulder to jawline, with his tongue, to kiss the hollow just beneath where Yuuri's pulse quietly fluttered, to bite heatedly down on-

Self-consciously, Yuuri tugged his collar up another inch, shifting slightly in his chair. He had never really considered his own neck to be particularly beautiful or striking in any way, but if Conrad had decided that this was so, then Yuuri was not about to complain.

In any case, Yuuri knew that he himself had specific oddities regarding his lover. He had long since found himself especially infatuated with Conrad's scent.

Yuuri found this peculiar even as he recognised that he was becoming intoxicated by it, since upon contemplating more deeply, he didn't think Conrad smelt of anything out of the ordinary. Conrad's work led him to be outside much of the time, and usually involved some form of exercise. He smelt of sweat. Conrad's occupation also meant that he spent plenty of time around the barracks and stables. He smelt of horses and leather and hay. Conrad was the type of person to enjoy a lengthy soak after a day's labour under the elements. He smelt faintly of soap.

But really, it was probably all those things that Conrad didn't _smell_ of, exactly, but what those same smells tended to _remind_ Yuuri of, that awakened his curiosity. Each time Yuuri pondered, he came up with something new, but they were usually things that were hard to put a finger on – like grass warmed by the sun, and the freshness of the soil after it had just rained, and that special kind of dust that coated baseball fields.

All of this became distinctly stronger, sharper, right after they had shared a bed (or occasionally a desk), and Conrad caught him at it one early winter's morning, having just returned with two steaming cups of Yuuri's now-famous hot chocolate to tempt him out of bed. He entered the room to find a still very naked Yuuri, head down and bare bottom up, his nose buried in the sheets.

"Ahem."

Flushing, Yuuri almost toppled right off the mattress in his mortification. "It's not what it looks like!" he blurted, now looking at everywhere but Conrad.

Conrad tried his best not to laugh. "Well… I'd have to say that it looks like you're inhaling my pillow."

Yuuri relaxed a little. "Oh. In that case, I guess it is pretty much what it looks like then." At Conrad's look of astonished amusement, Yuuri gave a huff. "Well, _you_ have a thing for my neck!" he added defensively.

Conrad supposed he should have expected such a nonsensical and utterly Yuuri-like answer. He proceeded to give Yuuri a good-morning kiss to snap him out of his embarrassment – not forgetting to gift Yuuri's neck with a mischievous nip along the way.

"I have a thing for _you_", he said, and Yuuri grinned and kissed him back.

* * *

**I thought it was time to write something a little more on the light-hearted side after the few previous chapters. Hope you enjoyed!**


	13. Sweet Dreams

"Yuuri? Are you well?"

"Huh? Sorry Conrad, what did you say?"

Yuuri looked up from his desk, the pen still in his hands and dripping ink, and Conrad looked at him carefully. Were His Majesty's eyes just a touch larger, darker, than usual, his face ever so slightly flushed? But maybe he was imagining things, because Yuuri smiled at him then, the same warm smile he always had for his protector, and when Conrad walked over, placing a hand on Yuuri's forehead just to be sure, Yuuri blinked up at him, puzzled. His skin felt warm to the touch, but not abnormally so.

"Conrad?"

"Forgive me, Hei- Yuuri", he hastily corrected, hiding his amusement at Yuuri mock-glare. "I thought you might have been feeling unwell."

Yuuri shook his head. "I only skipped dinner because my stomach was a bit unsettled earlier. Probably I ate too much at lunch. I _told_ Gunter not to worry." He stood up to stretch, almost toppling over before Conrad steadied him. Laughing, clumsily righting himself, he leaned against the soldier for a moment. "Oops! Guess I was sitting down too long. Thanks, Conrad."

Conrad had to remind himself to remove his hand from Yuuri's shoulder. Still, the young ruler said nothing, and Conrad was relieved that Yuuri hadn't noticed. "Perhaps an early night would not go amiss?" he suggested, partially to cover his brief moment of self-consciousness.

Right on cue, Yuuri yawned, rubbing a hand tiredly through his hair. "Now that you mention it, I am kinda sleepy. I don't know about Wolfram though."

There was nothing, Conrad told himself as he opened his mouth to speak, that was improper about his next suggestion. "If you won't be able to get a proper night's rest in your own chambers, may I offer you my own for the night? I won't be using them", he quickly added, seeing Yuuri's eyes widen. "I'm to take my turn for patrol duty shortly. My own chambers are small, but quiet."

"Oh... oh. Of course. Yes. Thank you, Conrad, if you're sure you don't mind. Maybe I haven't been sleeping that well lately."

"It's no trouble", Conrad assured him, and Yuuri said nothing more as he gave his desk a cursory tidy before being escorted through the castle hallways, trailing silently behind. Conrad snatched a glance backwards, but Yuuri's eyes were now faraway, and he did not notice Conrad's gaze upon him.

"Here we are." Conrad opened the door, allowing Yuuri to go in ahead of him. True to his word, the room was not particularly large, but the sparse cleanliness of it lent the area an almost spacious feel. More importantly, his quarters were out of the way enough that Yuuri should not be disturbed the steady stream of evening passers-by that his own royal chambers typically had, and here he would be on his own. How long, Conrad wondered, had it been since Yuuri had had a bed to himself?

Certainly Yuuri lost no time in acquainting himself with it, collapsing down with a contended sigh. Thanking Conrad again, this time practically radiating a cheerful sleepiness, Conrad felt more at ease. He bade Yuuri pleasant dreams before slipping out, shutting the door softly behind him. Back outside in the corridor, he let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, and made himself not look back as he strode away, the night closing in around him.

The moon had made its creeping journey to the farther side of the sky by the time Conrad found himself retracing his steps, his surroundings now heavy with the hush of the very early morning. It was still dark yet, but Conrad knew it would be scarcely another two hours before the dimness would be shot through with the first fresh rays of sunlight. He did not intend to find a place to sleep; he knew from long experience that he would feel the worse for it if he rested. Better to remain awake until the new day's finish even though his shift had ended. Still, he told himself he would check on Yuuri, if only to make sure that his king rested peacefully.

It was not wholly a lie. Yuuri had, after all, seemed more tired than usual, and it was both Conrad's responsibility and his pleasure to ensure that Yuuri remained in good health.

His boots made little sound as he approached his chambers. Pausing outside, hearing only the faint sounds of steady breathing from beyond its confines, he guided open the door, slowly, carefully. Eyes already adjusted to the darkness, he easily made out the shape of a slumbering Yuuri, laying on his side and body slightly curled under the covers. He must have kicked off the blankets at some point in the night, for Conrad could see Yuuri's figure outlined even from where he stood, only a sheet and part of a blanket to cover him.

Conrad swallowed and took a step closer, but froze when he heard Yuuri give a low moan. There was a soft hiss as the boy twisted under the sheets. Concerned, moving nearer, Conrad saw that Yuuri was gripping them in his fists, body half-tangled in them. Could he be in pain? Or else a bad dream? A further step brought Conrad close enough to make out Yuuri's face from among the shadows.

Conrad took it all in with a soldier's practical eye for detail: mouth slightly open to breathe, eyes flickering rapidly under closed lids, chest moving rhythmically, up and down as he panted. A light gasp, drawing Conrad's gaze inward; there were tiny droplets of sweat, barely discernable, where dark hair met fairer skin of neck and temple.

It was a heady mixture of worry and compulsion that led Conrad to bend down and rest his hand there, checking for signs of fever. As he did so, Yuuri's head shifted closer, seemingly seeking further contact. Another moan escaped parted lips.

_Oh._

Conrad removed his hand and took a hurried step backwards. Yuuri was indeed dreaming, but his expression, the way his body moved, did not reflect that of a nightmare.

"Ah! Mnn-"

Against his own will, Conrad drew in a breath sharply. He should not be here, there was no call for him to witness this-

But Yuuri was twisting again, and the silhouette of his body, quite naked beneath the whiteness of the sheets, was all too apparent, and his thighs were _clenching_-

"C-Conrad-!"

Well. _This_ was a new development.

Conrad must have clenched his own fists without realising it, because he could feel his nails digging into his palm. But in the space of time it took for his heart to slow once more, in the split second he told himself, firmly, that he had simply misheard, Yuuri was gasping out his name again, and Conrad knew he must take his leave, _now_-

The air outside was suddenly a lot cooler than it had been, and somehow there was also far less of it. With the iron self-control that Conrad was renowned for, he maintained his composure as he walked as quickly away as he dared.

Yet still, he could have sworn he heard Yuuri's voice, crying out his name, echoing past him and through him long after he had put some distance between them. Unbidden, there came images and murmurings in his head, writhing ghosts and fevered sighs...

Conrad was certain of it now. For the first time in many a decade, he was blushing.

* * *

**Probably my last little fanfic contribution for a short while, as I'm off to Japan for a few weeks next month, and I have some work to finish off before then. Hopefully this was an okay read though, and as always, reviews are love – as are suggestions for any ideas you'd like to see in further writings. **


	14. Surrendering to the Fall

_Procrastination, me? Never. ;) _

* * *

Yuuri is fooling around outside with his adoptive daughter and generally rejoicing in his youth that first winter, because as he has explained to a disapproving Wolfram, he doesn't really get proper winter where he's from – not with ice and snowmen and teetering igloos just big enough for a small, giggling child to squeeze into.

Yuuri, however, is accident-prone, and when he slips and sails backwards during a spirited game of tag, nobody is close enough to witness the fall except Greta. The frozen ground is about as hard as it looks; Yuuri hears a distinctive _clank_ just before his vision darkens.

He floats, and dreams that he's there, but that Conrad isn't – he's just _gone_, like he never was, but Yuuri's the only one to notice.

"...ri..."

Like tiny ripples of water, the sound trickles through his mind, extracting the dream gently away from where it clutches at him and drawing him back to the surface.

"...Yuuri..."

He stirs, feeling wetness on his face, and automatically raises his hand to scrub away the tears before his mind can catch up.

"What-"

"You're awake", says Conrad, not without some relief, although his voice is still warm. "You were dreaming, I think."

"Oh. Did I... um, pass out?"

Conrad's reply is apologetic. "I'm afraid so. You hit your head quite hard. Greta ran to get help."

Yuuri bites his lip. "I must've scared her, doing that. Is she okay? Was it bad?"

"She's fine", Conrad reassures him. "A little shaken, but no more than to be expected. And no stitches for you. Gisela thought you just needed to sleep it off. You've been here for most of the afternoon."

Conrad doesn't tell Yuuri that he had also been worried – that is not his way, and wouldn't have been his place regardless. It was not the fact that Yuuri had been unconscious, since such a thing is hardly uncommon. But Yuuri's body had been cold, so cold, against his own. Only the feel of Yuuri's heartbeat, strong and rhythmic as Conrad carried him back, had been enough for Conrad to swallow down his panic. It is unlike him; now he feels as though he no longer quite knows himself.

"I take it everybody already knows, then?"

Conrad gives a sympathetic smile. "If it's any consolation, you're to have peace and quiet for the rest of the day. Healer's orders."

Yuuri sighs in relief, and looks silently on as Conrad pours water from a pitcher. The soldier's movements are calm and efficient, and there's something about them that make Yuuri's eyes want to follow; fingers curling to grasp the handle, hand holding both glass and pitcher steady as he pours, eyes following his task seriously. Then Conrad is making Yuuri sit up to drink, watching him without making him feel like he's being scrutinised. He feels more normal for it, and gratefully hands back the glass.

"Feel like sleeping again?"

"I guess. Stay with me?"

"Of course."

The words tumble too easily and too naturally from his lips. Conrad is aware, as Yuuri snuggles back down, that this is not how it should be. The closeness Yuuri gifts him with is not that of a ruler to his subject, and the emotions that this awakens in Conrad is not that of duty to his king.

Perversely, the fact that they are both guilty makes Conrad feel less so, and however much he knows it is wrong, he can not bring himself to be ashamed enough to stop.


	15. Uncompromising Situations

Yuuri wasn't the type to complain, usually preferring to adopt the attitude that trying to make the best of any given circumstance was what made things work out. And since the young ruler seemed to rely more on his luck than on any of his other qualities (but especially when it came to matters regarding Shin Makoku), Yuuri felt that this positive way of thinking was at least partially responsible for helping him out of the many scrapes he had managed to get himself into over the past couple of years.

That, and the constant, reassuring presence of a certain capable swordsman.

Still, despite Yuuri's capacity for upbeat optimism in the face of assassins, perverted soul-eating swords, and god knew what else, even he was hard put to remain unprotesting when it was so readily apparent that Shinou had a fetish for throwing Yuuri literally head-first into uncompromising situations.

For all Yuuri had admired his stalwart bodyguard from afar over the last few months, landing in the castle bath chambers without a stitch of clothing separating him from Conrad's lap hadn't been on his to-do list.

"Uh… hi, Conrad." Yuuri could already feel himself overheating – it was all he could do not to stutter the words out.

"Good evening, Heika." Conrad, of course, was almost ridiculously composed. The smile he offered Yuuri showed no trace of embarrassment.

This only served to fluster Yuuri further.

Naturally, both men were used to bathing with others of the same gender. Yuuri had grown up in a typical Japanese household where, as a child, having a bath had meant bonding with both his father and his older brother in the traditional familial way. Later on, there had been regular trips to onsen, both local and on vacation, where bathing with numerous other men was simply the norm. Admittedly, Yuuri had little idea about the conventions of Shin Makoku when it came to bathing, but he had always assumed that, as a soldier, Conrad must have been used to sharing a bath with others; such a thing was no doubt unavoidable if he wished to remain clean while deployed away from home. Aside from all that, the bath chambers at Blood Pledge Castle were certainly not built for one. He himself had been here with Conrad plenty of times before, and had never felt any sense of awkwardness.

There had been the odd time, perhaps – only when the two had been alone together – when maybe he had caught himself gazing a little too long at Conrad, particularly if-

Conrad. Right. Yuuri shook his head, forcing his thoughts back to the present, and deciding that since Conrad hadn't said anything more, it was probably fine to remove himself from the man's thighs now.

Oh god. Mortified for the second time in as many minutes, Yuuri scooted backwards, face reddening yet more deeply.

"Sorry Conrad I swear didn't mean to honestly obviously I would never and Shinou must've mucked it up again and-!"

Conrad put a stop to Yuuri's babbling with another warm smile. "Please don't apologise, Heika, of course this is not your fault. There's no need to worry about it."

If only Conrad knew.

Yuuri still felt himself burn with mortification as he scrambled out of the bath, completely unable to get past the fact that he had felt the flexing of hard muscle beneath him as Conrad's body had moved instinctively to support Yuuri's sudden weight; the lapping of the pool's swells, first violently and then more calmly, as they had rippled around them both; the drops of water as they had quietly slid from Conrad's chest onto Yuuri shoulders, and then further downwards.

No doubt Conrad had meant it only as a platonically affectionate gesture, a naturally protective motion.

Even so. That other, twin burning sensation came not from his embarrassment but instead from just above his hipbone, where Conrad had immediately placed a supporting hand.

It was something that placated Yuuri, just a little, for several hours after fleeing the scene.


	16. Kiss of Life

By the time Yuuri worked out what had happened and had summoned the energy to scream – by the time Conrad had burst through the door like a man possessed, naked sword in hand and panic in his eyes – Yuuri was already covered in a cold sweat, knees drawn closely up to his chest and arms wrapped taut around them in a vain attempt to stop his shivering.

It was nobody's fault, Yuuri told himself, willing himself to believe it. One of the cooks must have mistaken one herb for another as they flavoured the food, or one of the maids had been careless as she selected the powdered seasonings from the panty. Or it could simply have even been nature itself, time or temperature turning the food bad before anyone had gotten the chance to realise it…

Someone was pulling him into an upright position, urging him to relax from the death-grip position he had imposed upon himself. Yuuri twisted as another spasm ripped though him, teeth clenched and fingers digging into the material of Conrad's jacket. The fact that he was the only one affected was answer enough, but it was an answer he did not want.

"Hold him up, Conrart, for Shinou's sake-!"

Yuuri felt himself literally freezing as if from inside out. He wanted to listen to what the others were telling him to do, he did, but he was so… so cold…

Something even colder was pushing insistently against his mouth.

"I don't care if you have to hold his damn nose, just get him to drink!"

If Yuuri was slowly turning to ice, Gwendal's voice was white-hot rage in his ears. Yuuri thrashed out against it, but his hands were still balled into fists so that he wasn't sure if he was trying to get away from Conrad or if was trying to draw himself closer.

"C-Conrad…!" He opened his mouth to ask, to plead, to scream again, and then Conrad's mouth was covering his own before he could do any of those things, one hand firmly under Yuuri's chin, the other holding him ruthlessly in place at his back.

Yuuri's first instinct was to struggle; it was _cold_, he needed to lie down again and try to hug the warmth greedily back to him, he couldn't _breathe_-

But Conrad wouldn't let him go, even when Yuuri pummelled at his chest and tried to jerk himself away, and his hands, his lips as he bent over Yuuri, were bruising in their force. Yuuri's body sagged as the last of the air left him, draining away the remnants of his strength. His eyes fluttered closed; there was no choice but to swallow whatever was already burning in his throat. It clawed at him on the way down, and Yuuri gagged.

Conrad was ready for it. Though his lips finally parted to allow Yuuri to breathe, he would not release the hand that still forced Yuuri's head and neck up. He refused to loosen his hold until Yuuri had stopped trying to retch, and the tears – borne of confusion and fright and betrayal – were dampening his king's cheeks.

A litany of words against his cheek: -_Sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry_-

There was little time to regroup. "Head between knees", said Gisela briskly. Silence, broken only by his own strangled gasps, hung over the room like a physical presence. The seconds crept by, and then a full minute, until the wave of dizziness at last hit. Yuuri would have fallen despite his posture had Conrad not been supporting him, this time by the shoulders.

Another shudder ran through him. Hoarsely, he dragged the words out. "I think I'm going to be sick."

And he was, all over the floor in spite of the basin held up for him – and when there was nothing more for his stomach to reject, Yuuri continued to convulse, his body struggling to rid itself of the last traces of the poison that still lingered there.

But after he had been carried to another room, and after someone had cleaned from him the sweat that was drying on his skin, and long after everyone else had left and the door closed against the noises of the rest of the night, still Conrad remained, his arms forming the perfect hollow in which Yuuri could dream.


	17. Hand in Hand

**For Aimi-chan, who ages and ages ago requested a fic of this theme.**

* * *

Yuuri was nervous.

Conrad could tell, because Yuuri was worrying his lower lip between his teeth, and because his eyes were darting about and refusing to meet Conrad's gaze just as though he were still that skittish teenager from years ago, and because Conrad knew Yuuri better than anyone else in the world, save perhaps for Yuuri's own mother.

And because Yuuri was his – would soon be his in the eyes of everyone else as well – just as Conrad was Yuuri's. Conrad always had been; it had just taken Yuuri a while to realise it (and then a while again for Yuuri to act on this realisation).

And so to this: a hand clasped in Conrad's still-larger one, trembling slightly as Yuuri affected not to notice, or to pretend otherwise. A face that time had changed a little – but not so much as to stop the faint blush that now crept up into Yuuri's cheeks as if to belie his adulthood.

Conrad found the effect rather charming, even if Yuuri did not. Over the sound of the music drifting from beneath closed doors, he gave Yuuri's hand a brief squeeze as he whispered. "Everything will be fine."

"I know, it's just…"

"Relax. It'll be over before you know it."

"Yeah, but what if I trip, or accidentally knock over the-"

"You won't", said Conrad reassuringly, his own heart hammering in his chest. He ignored it. "In any case, I'm sure that even if you did somehow manage to spill the wine or tangle yourself in your cloak or-"

"Con_rad_!"

"-I'm sure the crowd would be forgiving. Never forget, your subjects adore you, Yuuri. As I do." Conrad's words were light, but his honesty shone through them; was like a light in Conrad's eyes.

Yuuri squeezed back the hand that gripped his own. "I know", he said, and smiled up at his lover. And for a moment, there was only calm reflected back at Conrad, and love, plain and simple and all the brighter for it.

Then the nervousness returned, and Yuuri was fidgeting again. Conrad resisted the temptation to laugh. Instead, to take Yuuri's mind from the undertaking ahead of them, he leaned close to interrupt the next stream of anxious murmurings.

Yuuri's voice abruptly changed from a whine to a sharply indrawn breath as Conrad teased him, biting down on flesh that remained sensitive, no matter how many times Conad claimed it as his own. His blush deepened, his eyes slipping closed as he held back a groan, before springing back at the sound of a throat clearing behind them.

"It can wait until tonight, surely?"

"Josak!" Yuuri looked as though he were about to ask how the spy had gotten there, before changing his mind and commenting instead, "I thought you were supposed to be part of the ceremony?"

"I am, don't you worry – wouldn't miss this for the world. I just came to wish the commander good luck. He's going to need it."

"Hey!"

Josak winked, and stepped forward. "Conrad. I know you're probably sick of hearing it, but I wanted to tell you myself anyway. Congratulations. Nobody deserves happiness more than you do."

Conrad smiled. "You deserve it too, Josak. Never forget that."

"Ah, you know I prefer things solo. Besides, you must see all the best have already been taken." Josak waved off the words with a practiced casualness, although Yuuri did not doubt their sincerity.

Beyond them, the music was gradually rising in volume. Josak turned to look at Yuuri. "No going back now, kiddo", he grinned. His expression turned serious as he placed a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "Look after him", he said. "Conrad's a stubborn one, but any fool could tell – he's never been more nervous in his life."

Yuuri blinked in surprise as Josak gave a quick wave and disappeared, the corridor as empty as it had been a moment ago. Even Conrad looked momentarily stunned. Yuuri looked up at him, eyes wide. "Are you-"

The doors in front of them began to creak open.

"Ready?" Conrad asked him, and Yuuri could see it now that Josak had pointed it out, as plain as day.

He nodded, suddenly at peace again. "I could never be more ready."

Hand in hand, Lord Conrad Weller and His Majesty Yuuri Shibuya the twenty-seventh Maou of Shin Makoku, began their walk down the marriage aisle.


	18. Beautiful

Although Yuuri has now been a part of Shin Makoku for many years, it still comes as a surprise even to many of those close to him how self-conscious their young king can be. Yuuri, who has never exactly been a shy or retiring ruler, has retained a certain awkwardness when it comes to matters regarding his own body – contrary to all the compliments and flattering he has received since his arrival, Yuuri has not grown into a vain or complacent man, but rather is all the more bashful for it. He continues to blush or wave away the praise. "My hair and eyes are completely normal in Japan", he explains time and time again, his eyes wide in his earnestness. "I'm nothing unusual at all." With an embarrassed laugh, he likewise refutes the admiring words that follow him persistently from the women who trail him at courtly gatherings, and once admits to Conrad in private, "I wish they wouldn't. I'd be more comfortable if I could fit in instead of standing out." Conrad doesn't say anything, because he doesn't wish to discomfit Yuuri further by telling him just how perfect he truly is.

On the one hand, Conrad can see how such sentiments sound to someone like Yuuri, who has never quite shed the belief that he is ordinary in almost every sense of the word. As he is so fond of repeating whenever the subject comes up, he is simply one more in a sea of faces in his homeland, where plain black hair and dark eyes are not only the norm, but in many cases the rule. Moreover, Yuuri has never been thought of as particularly tall even by the standards of his family and friends on Earth. Where near-constant outdoor exercise has ensured that his physique is subtly toned, his skin faintly weathered by sun and wind, he has a naturally slight stature. Back home, his features are not thought of as striking in any way, and he has and wears nothing to mark him as unique – freckles, glasses, jewellery.

On the other hand, there are times where Conrad is unable to see how Yuuri fails to notice what everyone else cannot help to. Wolfram is blessed with his mother's golden hair and eyes of emerald green, yet Yuuri's black iris's shine with something that neither the language of Shin Makoku nor Yuuri's native tongue have the word for. Gunter, for all his vigorous training both indoors and out in his younger days, has skin that often seems to glow from within, soft and strong and ivory all at the same time. But Yuuri, who so often compares himself unfavourably in comparison to someone of Gunter's countenance, possesses some indefinable thing so radiant in nature that it is as if he carries an invisible magnet that draws almost everyone to him with its brilliance. Gwendal may be an intimidating figure at times, but Yuuri has recognised more than once that he is not only a powerful and very capable man, but also someone who is gifted with an immense force of will that he uses for what he genuinely believes to be right for everyone with the good fortune to be under his protection. Yuuri, for his part, forgets that he too has the power not only to protect, but also to grant happiness with only a smile or promise of friendship.

So it comes as no surprise at all to Conrad when Yuuri, fully unclothed for the first time in Conrad's presence outside of the bathtub, is as nervous and apprehensive as the day he first discovered his newfound kingdom. "It's just, you know, I've never, and even when people have said, it's not like I'm anything special-" Yuuri stutters himself into uncertain silence. Conrad, of course, is quite familiar with nearly each and every plane and angle on Yuuri's body – he has, after all, literally known his lover from before birth, and since then has spent enough time both in the water and out of it to know far more than Yuuri probably thinks. He is not tactless enough to say so, however, and chooses instead to place a gentle hand on Yuuri's shoulder. His touch, for now, is entirely chaste, and Yuuri relaxes a little under the contact.

Conrad doesn't need to look – in his mind's eye, he sees everything there is to see; the exact slant of Yuuri's eyes and brows, the precise curves of nose, mouth, jaw, the fixed lines of his neck as it flares downwards to the muscles of shoulders and arms. He has long since traced in his dreams the smooth evenness of Yuuri's back, has kissed the slopes and surfaces of his chest. The way in which the slant of Yuuri's hips match unerringly with the rest of his form is something Conrad feels he knows all too well.

And so, with an easy smile that belies his own apprehension at baring every one of his numerous scars and imperfections to the person he loves most, he tells Yuuri in all honesty:

"You are beautiful."


	19. Loss

When Yuuri next appears in Shin Makoku, with the resounding splash that Conrad is now completely used to after so many years, it takes him a second to realise that something is wrong. The water, still bubbling and churning about his sovereign and his lover, hides Yuuri's figure for a few seconds, and when the Maou eventually finds his feet, the water continues to run in rivulets down his cheeks.

"Yuuri. Welcome ba-"

Yuuri does not wait for Conrad to finish. He staggers from the fountain and heads straight for Conrad, and they are not rivulets dampening his face any more, but tears.

"Yuuri!"

Without a word, Yuuri's head is buried against Conrad's shoulder. His fingers curl desperately into Conrad's jacket. Not understanding, feeling helpless in the face of such bewildering misery, Conrad's hold tightens around Yuuri's shuddering form.

"Yuuri, what's wrong? Talk to me", Conrad implores him softly. It has been years since Yuuri has cried like this, and even longer since Yuuri has needed to seek comfort by way of hiding in the safety net of Conrad's arms. Conrad is at a loss, as are the rest of Yuuri's second family, who cluster around the pair in equal amounts of shock and concern. In the face of such anguish, nobody dares say a word for several moments.

The tremors wracking Yuuri's body gradually subside, and he looks up at Conrad. His sobs have been quiet; his voice, quieter still, is nonetheless clear enough to carry.

"My mother is dead", he whispers.

Yuuri sinks to the ground, and Conrad goes with him. He can do nothing but draw Yuuri closer as the king's grief consumes them both.


	20. All I'll Ever Need

**This ficlet goes out to Catiel Winree, who requested a chapter with the prompt, 'All I'll ever need.' Hope you enjoy!**

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* * *

**

It was the height of summer, and the festival commemorating the solstice was in full swing. This year at Blood Pledge Castle, the festivities were particularly elaborate. There was, after all, more to celebrate than simply midsummer. Peace had reigned for the last year, and the people were in high spirits – good wine combined with the knowledge that the land and those who lived on it had the divine blessings of the Maoh himself.

The first notes of the next song heralded the final formal dance of the evening – a dance traditionally reserved for established couples, as well as for those wishing to declare their intentions. There was a general shuffle as groups of people left the dance floor, to make way for clusters of others moving in. Women giggled coquettishly behind lace fans, whispering among themselves, and men, their best cloaks streaming behind them and their boots polished to a high shine, offered their hands to wives or sweethearts.

Conrad watched all this with a smile, although his eyes, as always, remained watchful. One could never be too careful, although the mood was hardly threatening. Truthfully, there were very few now in Shin Makoku who would wish the Maoh ill.

Conrad had studied Yuuri without appearing to all evening, as he accepted dances with this one and that. At twenty years of age, he cut a slender and surprisingly graceful figure, so long as he forgot to be embarrassed with all the formalities. At this moment, however, Yuuri was lost somewhere in the crowd, his attention no doubt taken up with yet another guest wishing to engage him in conversation. It had now been three years since Yuuri and Wolfram had parted ways, and although there were plenty who would have very willingly lead him to the dance floor at past solstices, Yuuri had so far politely abstained.

Conrad was not sure how to feel about that. Certainly there were many here who would have made desirable matches, and there had been offers aplenty from almost the very day after Yuuri and Wolfram's mutual romantic separation, but then again-

"Conrad!"

Yuuri was flushed with cheerful exertion, his eyes bright. Truly, Conrad thought, Yuuri only grew more striking each day.

"Heika", Conrad acknowledged carefully, then gave in at Yuuri's look of indignation. "Yuuri", he amended.

"Conrad… I, um…"

Conrad's expression shifted immediately to one of concern. "Is something wrong? What happened?"

Yuuri shook his head vigorously. "Nothing happened! I promise, it's just that… I wanted to ask you- that is, I mean…" Yuuri shuffled his feet, suddenly that awkward teenager once again. Conrad waited patiently, hiding his smile while Yuuri tried to collect himself.

"Dance with me!"

Conrad stared, all temptation to laugh abruptly vanishing. Yuuri surely knew by now what dancing with Conrad at this particular moment would signify but he couldn't possibly mean-

"Yuuri. Heika. I'm not sure you understand-"

"I understand perfectly, Conrad. I want to dance with you. Please don't pretend that you don't… that we aren't…" He swallowed, still nervous but staring at Conrad determinedly.

Conrad closed his eyes. He'd by lying if he told himself Yuuri was wrong – that he'd never thought of his king in that way, that he had not deliberately sought out ways to be closer to the boy – no, the man – who had brought such joy back into his life. But still, this was…

"Yuuri", said Conrad gently, hating himself, knowing he had to say it anyway. "We can't do this. You don't know what you will be losing by inviting me to dance – what you will be cutting yourself off from. There are many people who would… they are more suited by far than I to…"

"I don't care. I want this, Conrad."

Conrad tried again. "What you will be leaving behind if we-"

"I don't care!"

People were looking at them now, watching the scene unfold with unfeigned curiosity. Yuuri ignored them all. He leaned forward, his voice lower.

"I don't want anyone else for this, Conrad. Is it really so hard for you to accept? A political match, or one for appearances sake? You know I can't do that. It's… it's you who I…" He looked down for a moment, blinking hard, before taking a breath and looking Conrad directly in the eye.

"You're all I'll ever need", he said quietly, and though his voice trembled a little, his bearing was steady as he took a step back and extended his hand to the soldier.

Conrad's gaze swept the room, noting the noblemen, the aristocrats, the men and women of power gathered in the hall and waiting to see what he would do. Conrad was no noble. He was no aristocrat, no lord.

But he was loved. And in the face of Yuuri's confession, there could be no reply but one.

Conrad took Yuuri's sweat-dampened hand firmly in his own. Together, they lead each other to the dance floor.


	21. What the Heart Wants

_An ultra-sappy, super-sweet ficlet written on the spur of the moment. I felt like I hadn't ficced in a while, and couldn't bring myself to write anything that wasn't ridiculously fluff-filled. _

* * *

It wasn't that Conrad had suddenly fallen in love somewhere along the way. He had experienced falling in love before – more than once, in fact – over the course of his life, and knew what that felt like. But when he first laid eyes on his future king – then still merely a child, and one who stared right back at him at that, grinning in babyish delight – Conrad became aware that in some way, he had always loved Yuuri. That it was not the beginning of Conrad's utter devotion to the Maou; it was simply a continuance of it.

When Conrad next caught sight of his beloved Yuuri, he was sorry he had missed so many years. Very few, of course, in comparison to the life span he and others of his kind were used to, but in contrast to the opportunities he had failed to see to watch Yuuri grow, they were numerous indeed. And so even as Yuuri protested, disputing again and again his right to the throne over those next several hours, Conrad only fell a little deeper.

He consoled himself by noting, not without some pride, that the following years of Yuuri's life contained so much growth on Yuuri's part that there was scarcely a day where his king did not learn something new, or discover another facet of himself. Yuuri was constantly challenged, both by his numerous subjects as well as by the stringent moral codes that he imposed upon himself, and Conrad had to force himself, at times, not to step in too quickly.

Watching Yuuri fumble as he attempted to forge peace through what seemed truly impossible methods; hanging back as Yuuri battled with all manner of social customs that were totally alien to him; stopping himself from interfering as Yuuri dealt with the trials and tribulations of regulating not even one people, but an entire country.

It was difficult, and it was painful, not to be able to take the load from Yuuri's shoulders. Conrad would have, and regularly did do, anything he could to save his Maou from heartache, but there were some things that only a Maou could do, while his vassals, however loyal, could only watch on and hope.

And watch, Conrad did. Every day, he filled his eyes with all that he could, knowing well that it was a small price to pay for the one who had managed, against all odds, to fill his soul. He saw what others might have missed – the way that Yuuri's hands and wrists grew a little too big for him for a few months, right before the rest of his body caught up. He kept himself from putting his arms around Yuuri when his ruler stayed up for several nights in a row, contenting himself with keeping a vigil instead as Yuuri pored over papers and frantically signed treaties. He only loved Yuuri all the more when it was Yuuri who shook his head regretfully, even as his dark eyes begged for a respite, when Conrad suggested that he break for a quick game of catch.

And yet.

For all Conrad's watching and loving and hoping beyond hope, it was he who was surprised when Yuuri came to him, his mouth telling Conrad the very thing that Conrad had told himself could never happen – not even in more than one lifetime.

Yuuri's fingers gripped Conrad's shoulders in a silent plea, his breath tickling his lips. Conrad's common sense, as well as every single ounce of gentlemanly reservation he had about what he _really_ wanted to watch and experience and love, told him no. No, _no_.

His heart, full to overflowing with only Yuuri, told both of them differently. Conrad's mouth pressed hard against his king's, fiercely proclaiming what his voice could not.

Yes, _yes_. A thousand times yes.


	22. Compass

_This chapter is for Catiel Winree, based on her video game song prompt: "The only compass that I need is the one that leads back to you."_

* * *

Yuuri sighed as he lit another candle. This made number eleven – the most he had needed to light since he had begun this silent ritual. The tiny flame made shadows dance on the walls around him, although tonight, even in the modestly-sized chapter, all four of the walls seemed further spread out than usual. The chamber felt larger than it was, and all the emptier for the fact that Yuuri was, once again tonight, the only occupant.

Despite managing to far better control his emotions than he once had, no longer quite wearing his heart on his sleeve – or at least, not as often – Yuuri missed Conrad, and made no secret of the fact. Finally welcoming Conrad into his bed, albeit long after he had welcomed him into heart, had been a big step, but a rewarding one. Indeed, after getting over his initial shyness, Yuuri was left wondering how exactly he had dithered for so long.

His intimacy with Conrad, however, did have its downsides. Yuuri had become unused to sleeping alone; it had come as a shock the first time Conrad had needed to leave. Yuuri had known, of course, that he could hardly keep Conrad all to himself – Maou's lover or no, Conrad had the same sorts of duties to attend to, and Yuuri would have never refused him that. But knowing vaguely that Conrad would have to leave at some point or other in order deal with those duties, and actually being confronted with an empty bedchamber one evening, were two different matters entirely.

And so he had decided to light Conrad's way home. One candle, every night, to remain flickering in the window when Conrad was gone, and Yuuri finally slept. It was not that Yuuri felt the candles would protect Conrad in any way. He was well aware that Conrad needed no further protection, and that even if the soldier did, Yuuri was in no position to give it. It was not that Yuuri feared Conrad would get lost, either – after all, from even the most distant places, Conrad had not once failed to return home.

Yuuri supposed it was a more of a comfort for himself, really. For every candle lit, a hope that Conrad would be back in the morning – a constant reassuring, and ever-loving, presence. And Conrad always did return, as if drawn to the candle like it was a compass of sorts, leading him back to Yuuri's side. Yuuri knew it was silly, and hid the stubs in a drawer, piled one on top of the other.

He sighed again, glancing at the drawer now. At the rate he was going, he would soon need a bigger drawer. Eleven candles was several too many, and he had been carrying out this small rite ever since the beginning of his relationship with Conrad. Needless to say, it was foolish to try to elicit promises, and Conrad, knowing the nature of his job, had never made any. Still, Yuuri had hoped to burn through only a week's worth this time; he had never needed to use more than that at any one time. He was not worried, not exactly, but…

The candle gutted, and went out. Yuuri frowned, fumbling towards the windowsill in the darkness. That was odd, there had been no movement in the air that Yuuri could discern, and the sudden disappearance of the only light in the chamber had left Yuuri temporarily sightless. Not yet adjusted to the dim, Yuuri stretched out a hand, and felt it make contact. The candle tipped and rolled, dripping hot wax, and Yuuri swore quietly. He dropped to his knees, blindly groping for the lost object, then spun as the floor creaked behind him.

A hand touched his shoulder. Yuuri gave a shriek.

"_Yuuri?_"

"C-Conrad? You're back!"

He heard Conrad crouch down level with him, before strong arms closed about his waist. There was a short silence, as Conrad waited for Yuuri's heartbeat to quieten.

"Sorry. I didn't know you had arrived", said Yuuri once he had regained his voice.

"And far later than I would have wished, believe me. … Just out of curiosity, what are you doing on the floor?"

"Um. Trying to find my candle?"

"Even though there are several perfectly good candles in the candelabra on the wall over there?"

"… Yes."

He felt Conrad's smile against his back. "I missed you, and all your Yuuri-ness."

"I'll have you know there's a completely logical explanation!"

"I have no doubt."

"There really is."

"I believe you."

It was still dark, and Conrad wasn't facing him, but Yuuri somehow knew that Conrad could see Yuuri rolling his eyes.

"You're just going to keep saying that until I tell you, aren't you?"

"Mmhm." Yuuri could almost hear the quiet laughter in Conrad's words, hidden just beneath the surface of his breath.

Yuuri leant back into Conrad's chest, tilting his head back. His eyes closed. "Fine. You win. I light candles. One for every single night you're away. So you have… something to light your way home." He felt himself flush, suddenly shy.

Conrad's arms only tightened around him.

"Yuuri." His foot nudged the candle gently away from them. "Yours is the only light I need."


	23. An Honest Man II

There comes a time – much to Conrad's dismay – when Yuuri practically has to be dragged by force from his desk on a daily basis.

Yuuri has always been a relatively early riser, but all except the guards unlucky enough to be on duty are still abed when Yuuri blearily makes his way to the office each morning. There he remains, until Wolfram makes a point of pushing him out to the dining room at lunch hour, all but force feeding him until his plate has been cleared. And at night, when Conrad faithfully patrols the halls not too far from Yuuri's office door, the candle burns late into the night.

Inaction has always been Yuuri's greatest fear. Now the young Maou attempts to alleviate his dread at doing nothing by pushing himself, cruelly, to near-breaking point. Yuuri understands why he cannot rush head-first into these situations – there are circumstances that simply cannot be solved by luck and sheer force of will (although, if it were possible, Conrad knows that his king would gladly sacrifice his life so that those things that plague every nation, no matter how well-governed, might not come to pass).

And so instead, Yuuri chooses to sacrifice his life in another way, and pays for his country's peace with time.

Paperwork has never been Yuuri's strong suit. Now, not a minute goes by where he is not itching to hold the quill in constantly aching fingers. If he could sign enough treaties, devise enough ideas, endorse enough proposals to spare his people the least amount of suffering, Yuuri would continue to write for the rest of his days.

Conrad allows things to get to the point where Wolfram finally snaps, grabbing his older brother by the jacket and yelling at him after Yuuri has left the dinner table, too weary to eat another bite: "_Do _something, damn you!"

Conrad follows his charge out the door. He watches Yuuri for the rest of the evening, and by the time the candles have burnt low enough that Yuuri could scarcely make out the words on the parchment in front of him, he has made his decision. Yuuri's kingdom, his people, are the most important thing in the world – in any world – to Yuuri. But Yuuri is the most important thing in the world to Conrad, and once, long ago, Conrad made the mistake of giving that up.

The midnight hour is struck, and he carefully pours Yuuri his customary cup of tea.

When Yuuri finally rises from his seat some minutes later, mumbling something about the bathroom, Conrad is ready. Yuuri topples soundlessly forwards. Conrad's arms catch him long before he hits the ground. "I've got you", he reassures him. But his king is already unconscious, a too-light warmth in Conrad's grip.

Conrad carries him out of the room, nodding to where he knows Gwendal has been keeping his own silent vigil just beyond the doorway. He does not make even a token effort to reprimand Conrad for his actions.

It is just as well. Conrad is well aware, as he prepares to tuck Yuuri in for the night, that what he has done is deceitful, bordering on treacherous.

He is also honest enough to realise that, had he been given the opportunity, he would not have changed his mind.


	24. Communicating Desire

**For Catiel Winree, who prompted me with 'Nightmare'.**

* * *

Pity is written on Conrad's face.

_I do not want you._

Yuuri awoke with a gasp. The nightmare was already fading from memory, but the echoes of Conrad's voice followed him back to consciousness, making him claw desperately at the bed covers before he managed to regain some control of his breathing. Rolling over, he saw Conrad was already awake, although a glance in the direction of the window told him that it was not yet morning.

"Are you alright?" Conrad didn't bother to mask his concern, for which Yuuri was grateful. He admired Conrad's control, as he admired nearly everything about the soldier, but coming face to face with a mask after… after _that_, would have been disconcerting at best. As it was, Yuuri took another moment to ground himself before forcing his muscles to relax, burrowing back into Conrad's warmth.

"I'm okay. Just a dream."

Conrad waited silently. He continued to watch Yuuri, but his gaze softened, demanding nothing. He was still, waiting for Yuuri to settle. No doubt he could feel Yuuri's heart continuing to beat abnormally fast, and Yuuri was willing to bet that even at this hour, probably only just woken up himself, Conrad noticed everything, from the way Yuuri's fingers had refused to loosen their grip to the thin sheen of sweat that coated Yuuri's body. Yuuri knew that if he decided to close his eyes and pretend to go back to sleep, Conrad would not ask any questions.

It was this last more than anything else that prompted Yuuri to speak. "I dreamt we were having sex", he admitted.

To his credit, Conrad merely blinked in confusion. "Oh", he said.

"It was a good dream at first", Yuuri hastily reassured him. "I was… you were so… but then you started staring at me like there was something you didn't like. And even though I knew you still loved me I knew you didn't want me."

Conrad's hand moved to cup Yuuri's face, his touch just as gentle as always. "How can I love you and not want you?"

Yuuri flushed. "It's stupid when I say it."

"If you'd rather not-"

The words tumbled breathlessly out, almost too fast for Conrad to catch. "EvenwhenwehavesexIworryI'mnotgoodenough."

Conrad took a moment to separate the sentence out in his head, then leant to kiss Yuuri's mouth, his touch slow and lingering. "You are more than enough, and I would not make love to someone I did not desire."

Yuuri fidgeted, still nervous. "Sometimes I wish I were taller, or stronger, more muscular…" He trailed off, uncertain, his eyes begging Conrad to understand.

"I love you as you are. _All_ of you."

"But I'm just _me_, and _you're_… everyone else is just so…"

"Yes. Everyone else is not you." Conrad's voice was firm and unyielding, a counterpoint to the softness of his lips as he leant to kiss Yuuri again. "Luckily, it is you, and only you, who I want."

"_Why?_"

Conrad smiled, understanding that Yuuri was not fishing for complements, but simply needing assurance. On the surface, he found it baffling that nobody had appeared to appreciate just how wondrous Yuuri was before this. Deeper down, Conrad felt a vast relief that nobody had claimed Yuuri as theirs before he himself could. Heart and body, Yuuri belonged to Conrad, and Conrad to Yuuri. Once, he had not believed it possible.

"It's not something I can easily put into words." This was a half-truth, but Yuuri was still adorably new to this, and Conrad's aim was not to embarrass him.

At least, not like that. But as Yuuri repositioned himself slightly, Conrad couldn't not be reminded of the unassailable fact that Yuuri was pressed up against him, naked and soft and utterly beautiful, no matter which way Conrad looked at it.

"I could put it into actions instead, however", Conrad suggested lightly.

"Wha-"

With all the considerable skill he possessed, Conrad did his utmost to make sure that his desire was communicated loud and clear.

The nightmare was left to dissipate, lying forgotten among the tangled limbs and sheets.


	25. Contact

**Another prompt from Catiel Winree, who asked for something involving glue and a 'sticky situation'. This is the result. XD**

* * *

Yuuri spared a glance behind him, heart thudding in his chest. He couldn't see anyone yet, but the sounds of hurried footsteps were definitely getting closer, and a drawn-out cry had him desperately looking for a place to hide.

"Heikaaaa!"

There wasn't much time to decide – either continue running and hope that Gunter didn't catch up to him, or duck into the nearest available room. A second dramatic wail made Yuuri's choice for him. He liked the man, he really did, but studying classical Shin Makoku poetry – most of which seemed to consist of overly vivid imagery of the glory of past Kings, and all of which Gunter insisted on punctuating with theatrical sighs and exaggerated arm gestures – was not how Yuuri wanted to spend the rest of his afternoon.

Yuuri shoved open the closest door that presented itself, uncaring as to whether it was a spare bedroom or a closet so long as it hid him from Gunter's terrifying attentions.

The door safely shut behind him, Yuuri leant against it, attempting to get his breath back. Thankfully, he didn't seem to have surprised anyone by his unannounced visit. The room was silent other than his own laboured breathing, and it looked like neither bedroom nor closet. More like a kitchen really, or else like… Yuuri's eyes widened.

This was Anissina's room – or perhaps laboratory was a better word for it. He hadn't recognised it at first without the usual clutter and smoke, but this was definitely it. The benches and floor were swept clean, however, and the only evidence that Anissina used this room at all was the collection of tubes and bottles on the corner of the table. They, too, were free of any mess, and the glass winked in the sunlight streaming through the window.

Yuuri couldn't help himself. It was too soon, he told himself, to venture out just yet, and anyway, with Anissina not here then things should be perfectly safe. It wasn't her experiments so much as it was the woman herself that made this room so potentially… volatile.

One of the cupboard doors hung slightly ajar. He should probably close it. But if there was something interesting to be seen inside, well, there could be no real harm in just looking, could there? So long as he didn't actually touch anything, he should be fine. Just a little peek.

Rows of jars peered back at him, mostly all glass again, and all labelled in miniscule handwriting. Yuuri could make out only some of it. _Sundried willow seeds_, read one. That didn't sound too threatening. _Essence of silver-pod_, whatever that was. _Camilla sap_. Yuuri's eyes flicked over them again, but none seemed particularly interesting. He was about to shut the cupboard properly when a final small vial behind the jars caught his eye. It was not filled with crushed leaves or ground herbs like the rest appeared to be, but instead contained a swirling liquid, a blue so light it was almost silver. There was no label on it.

A closer look only – he would not unstop the vial, of course. But there could be nothing wrong in simply picking it up. It was almost as if whatever was inside was beckoning him, in fact, enticing his hand closer.

The glass felt quite normal beneath his fingers, cool and smooth to the touch. His hand cradling the bottle gently, Yuuri bought the object to his eye, better to see the eddying patterns which the liquid was making inside. He squinted, then held the bottle up to the light. Was the colour changing ever so slightly at his touch? It was hypnotic, almost like-

"Heika?"

Yuuri gave a shriek of surprise, and the bottle slipped from his fingers. Yuuri watched it fall as if in slow motion, following its descent to the floor. The glass cracked instantly, sending broken shards scattering across the ground.

"Conrad?" Yuuri's voice came out high-pitched, his heart once again beating abnormally hard. "I thought you were Gunter, or… oh no."

Yuuri watched the last of the liquid seep to the ground. At least there were no explosions.

"Gunter is still looking for you, but nobody seems to have seen you for a while now", Conrad said, his mouth quirking at the corners. "For some reason I just had the feeling I should try in here. I apologise, I thought you would have heard me enter. "

Yuuri sighed in relief. "I guess I got distracted. You just surprised me, that's all." He bent down, intending to pick up the pieces of glass that were large enough to gather by hand.

"Yuuri, no!"

"Huh?" Yuuri turned to look at him, but his skin had already made contact.

Nothing happened for a moment. Yuuri frowned in confusion. "What-"

An explosion – Yuuri just had the time to realise that he should have expected that – shook the walls, sending Yuuri sprawling. Conrad leapt to his defence, sheltering him with his body, but there was little to be done other than wait until the room had ceased to quake, and the rumbling sound fade away.

When quiet came again, Yuuri cautiously opened his eyes. The room appeared to have survived any major damage.

"Heika, are you alright?" Conrad's voice was sharp with concern, arms still pressed against Yuuri protectively.

"I… I think so. What just happened?"

"I have no idea. But I think it's safe to say that people will have heard that."

Right on cue, the door flew open. Anissina stormed in, her bright blue eyes flashing in anger. Her expression changed from annoyance to curiosity, and then to barely concealed glee, however, as she saw who it was that was still crouched on her floor.

"_Well_", she said triumphantly, her gaze raking over the two of them, limbs still tangled together. "_This_ should be interesting."

Yuuri gulped. He didn't like the sound of that. "Um, I know I shouldn't have… I'm really sorry Anissina, I didn't mean to-"

"Can you move?" Anissina interrupted him. She didn't seem terribly distraught about whatever it was that Yuuri had broken, nor especially interested in hearing his apology.

"What? Of course I- ow!" Yuuri slammed back into Conrad like something had jerked him there. Perhaps his foot had slipped, or- oomph! No sooner had he tried to scramble up again than he found himself right back where he had started, flush against Conrad's chest, Conrad's face inches from his own.

Anissina gave a peal of laughter that sent goosebumps up Yuuri's body.

"You will have to remain close to Conrad for now, Heika. It looks as if you both touched that potion at around the same time, I'm afraid." Contrary to her words, Anissina did not sound upset in the least.

"What? What do mean, close to Conrad!"

"Anissina?" Conrad didn't sound nearly as panicked, but his hand grasped Yuuri's arm reassuringly as he pulled Yuuri from the ground.

"That potion I'm assuming you both touched. If any two people come into contact with it around the same time, they must remain… in contact, until it wears off."

Yuuri gaped. "You… you mean…" He trailed off, staring at Conrad's hand still on his arm.

"A part of you must always be touching the other. I call it, the Getting-Along-With-Your-Partner-kun!" Anissina finished proudly. "Until the effects wear off, that is."

The very word 'partner' sent Yuuri's mind reeling. "H-how long…?" he managed to squeak out.

"Well, at a guess I would say a couple of hours…"

Yuuri heaved a sigh of relief.

"But the formula hasn't been perfected yet, so that time might be extended for longer. Possibly until this time tomorrow."

"Until… tomorrow…?"

Yuuri turned to Conrad. The soldier didn't seem too distressed, even when Yuuri took a reflexive step back and ended up almost pulling Conrad straight down to the floor again. It was like an invisible glue bound them together.

"Y-you mean we have to stay this close together until… and while we…"

Images raced through Yuuri's head, and he felt his face heat up. Him and Conrad. Conrad and he. Bathing together. Sleeping together. Unable to not touch one another while they… He glanced helplessly at Conrad again, and did his utmost to keep from imagining Conrad this close to him, completely naked. His heart felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest, and he was having trouble breathing again.

"Oh dear", he heard Conrad say, sounding distinctly untroubled. His fingers shifted down to Yuuri's hand, tightening slightly. Yuuri suddenly could not shift his eyes away from Conrad's mouth as it moved. He felt hot, much too hot. "Does this mean keeping in actual bodily contact with one other, or-"

Yuuri gave a small moan and fainted dead away, Anissina's delighted laughter sounding in his ears.


	26. Breaking Point

Conrad spat out blood and struggled back up from the ground, his sword barely steady in his left hand. His right arm hung lifeless by his side.

Yuuri gave a muffled gasp, hands pressed over his mouth and eyes wide in shock. "C-Conrad-"

"Run, Yuuri!"

Yuuri shook his head. "I'm not leaving you." Fear made his voice quaver, but he refused to move.

Conrad looked like he wanted to argue, but his protest was cut short as he was forced to parry, and for a time there was only the sounds of swords clashing, both opponents grunting with the effort of trying to force the other off balance. Yuuri could not see their enemy's face – black cloth was wrapped over everything but his eyes. They glittered as coldly as Conrad's in the dark. Around them, bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls, battered and broken.

Minutes passed, yet neither Conrad nor his mysterious foe gave ground. Yuuri could see that Conrad was attempting to move him backwards, further away from Yuuri. But Conrad was injured, and Yuuri did not know how much energy he might have left to give. Conrad might have been one of the best swordsmen in the world, but even he must eventually tire, and Yuuri was all too aware that his wound was slowing him down, make him vulnerable.

"Yuuri…" Conrad was panting now, his sword held lower than usual. "You… have to go…"

"No!"

The two swords rang out again, and this time Conrad's foot slid beneath him. The soldier hissed, but otherwise gave no sign of his pain as he managed to retreat a step, his side grazed.

"Conrad!" Yuuri had never felt as helpless as he did now, the knowledge that he was unable to aid Conrad in any way leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But he was scarcely able to stand on his own two feet as it was, his physical and magical strength already depleted. The scene was wavering in front of him, dizziness making his legs tremble.

Conrad's knuckles were white as he gripped his sword harder, his vision impaired by the blood dripping down his forehead and over one eye. He swung – and missed.

As though from far away, Yuuri heard himself scream.

And then, nothing. No sound, no feeling in his body as he ran, not away from but toward the two men. Conrad was staring at him, mouthing something desperately at him, but Yuuri didn't care what it was so long as he was still alive to say it. The world had slowed to a crawl – there was only himself, and Conrad, and the man who wanted to kill him.

The screams came back to him as his body suddenly became aware of it all again – the hot, metallic smell of blood, the stickiness of his sweat, the burning of his lungs. Most importantly of all, Conrad's heartbeat against his own, loud and reassuring. Conrad wasn't dead. Yuuri would not allow him to die.

"Leave him alone!" he yelled, as if this other man was some wild animal that might be frightened away.

"Yuu… ri…"

"No, _no!_ I'm not leaving, don't leave me, Conrad!"

"Move."

Yuuri shivered at the voice that came from behind him, but even as he felt the blade against his neck, he knew he could not budge.

"You'll have to kill me first."

"Yuuri, go! Run!"

Yuuri shook his head wildly. "Stop talking, Conrad! I'm not going. I won't…" He felt like an idiot, the tears choking his words, but nothing Conrad could say would make him leave. He tensed, bracing for the pain, for sword to cut through flesh and sinew and muscle.

When his own ragged breathing was all he could hear after several more seconds, he looked up, tightening his arms around Conrad just in case.

"God… you're only a kid…"

The man had removed his mask. He was gazing at Yuuri like he couldn't believe his eyes, although his sword was still pressed to Yuuri's skin.

"You're supposed to be the Maou, and you're a child! Just a stupid kid…"

Yuuri stared back at him, barely comprehending the words. "Leave us alone", he said thickly. "Please just leave us alone."

"I have to kill you, they… they told me I _have_ to kill you." But he was looking down at his hands as he said it, like he was suddenly unable to remove the sight of the blood that was spattered there.

Conrad was silent, but Yuuri could still feel the rise and fall of his chest. Yuuri made himself sit up a little. "I'm dead, then. You've killed me."

The man tore his eyes away from his hands. "What?"

"I died. You killed us both. So please go… go, before the others get here! Somewhere far away, from everything. I won't tell."

Yuuri knew he spoke like a fool. Who could he have possible told? Why should that be any of this person's concern?

"I... I'm leaving."

Yuuri blinked. The sword was dropped at his feet.

"I won't be back. So don't follow me. My children… I have to go find my children, so don't…"

The voice faded, and the darkness swallowed him up so quickly that Yuuri wondered if he had passed out for a moment. Or perhaps it was merely the dizziness catching up with him again, making his head spin. But all that mattered was that Conrad's body was still warm beneath his own, and that his hands were gripping Yuuri's shoulders.

Reality crashed down on him. Yuuri buried his face into Conrad's neck and sobbed his relief as the rain began to fall.


	27. Glimpse

There are suspicious noises coming from Yuuri's study. Not the scatchy sounds of ink pen on parchment (as there most certainly should be), nor the quiet leafing of paper being turned (the only satisfactory alternative to the former). Instead there are muffled thumps and barely contained laughter, and occasionally a soft, ragged moan that Gwendal suspects Conrad takes a particular delight in.

The idiots have left the door open a crack. Gwendal supposes that, given it is technically the Maou's own castle, Yuuri can decide to do whatever he likes wherever he likes it, but still, he thought at least Conrad would have known better.

For a moment, Gwendal entertains the thought of entering the room 'accidentally'; petty revenge for the couple's antics, if only because he knows that Yuuri, at least, would be mortified to be walked in on.

But Gwendal would like to think he is above that sort of nonsense, and so he banishes the idea as soon as it surfaces, frowning instead to cover up the beginnings of a smile. His hand covers the handle of the door to click it shut, but not before he catches a glimpse: limbs tangled together and shiny with sweat, strands of hair clinging to Conrad's forehead, Yuuri's lips parted to gasp as Conrad claims his neck. Their bodies move together, _fit_ together perfectly, and the door is pulled to before Gwendal sees any more.

"Gwen? What-"

"Shh. It's nothing."

Gunter raises his eyebrows at him questioningly, right before another breathy moan filters through the door. "Ah! Conrad…"

If Gwendal is blushing, Gunter has the decency not to say anything. But his mouth curves upwards as they retreat down the hallway. "I was wondering when this might happen", he tells Gwendal.

"You knew?"

"I happened upon them kissing in the garden a few days ago."

"You could have told me", Gwendal grumbles, and Gunter squeezes his hand.

"Perhaps I didn't want to spoil the surprise."

Gwendal ignores his teasing and frowns again. "I suppose it had to happen sooner or later, but even so…"

Gunter puts a stop to his complaining by pulling him off to bed. Gwendal takes extra care to ensure that the door is locked behind him.


	28. Remembrance

**For a-kun, who prompted me with something involving Julia and memories. **

* * *

They are walking in the gardens one golden afternoon when Yuuri abruptly stops and, without any warning or explanation, places his right palm to Conrad's cheek.

He holds it there, his body so still that he might almost be mistaken for a statue were it not for the warmth of his fingers as they shift over Conrad's face, as if drinking it in with his touch. Conrad holds himself equally as motionless – Yuuri's eyes are suddenly far away, like he can see something that is invisible to everyone but him – and Conrad is not sure what to do except to let Yuuri finish seeing it. His eyes are obsidian mirrors, and Conrad can see himself in them.

Even the wind seems to hold its breath as Conrad struggles not to move a muscle, lest he interrupt this one moment of perfect silence.

A bird chirps, and Yuuri comes back to himself, blinking and then blushing as he realises what he is doing. "Ah… sorry about that, Conrad, I must've been daydreaming or…" He scratches his head, embarrassed, then pauses again. "Conrad?"

"Heika?"

"I think… I think I was _remembering_."

It takes Conrad a second to catch up with Yuuri's thought process, as is often the case with his Maou. But Yuuri is looking at him expectantly, and Conrad understands what he is trying to say. "What did you remember?"

"I'm not really sure. Normally when you remember something you can see it, right? I mean, I didn't see nothing, but I don't know if I saw something that was actually there either… do you know what I mean? Not physical, exactly, more like… how something feels, how it _is_."

Conrad is quiet, and Yuuri laughs a little self-consciously. "Sorry, that doesn't make sense at all, does it?"

"I know what you mean." It isn't proper, but he takes the hand that had rested so lightly over his face in his own anyway. There are a thousand things he could say – _Julia was blind but saw more than most,_ _I never held her hand like this,_ _I loved her but I am in love with you_ – and Conrad says none of them. But he allows himself to squeeze Yuuri's hand a little tighter, hoping that somehow, a little of his thoughts might be communicated in this small gesture.

Yuuri doesn't seem to mind, and only smiles up at Conrad before remembering to blush again.


	29. Remembrance II

**This was a little inspired by the theme of my last chapter, and is for Lady Angela von Spitzberg who prompted me with something to do with the paranormal, like a ghost or out-of-body experience. I ended up taking both ideas and weaving them vaguely into this fic.**

* * *

"Where is Julia buried?"

The question came out of the blue, as Conrad and Yuuri were stretching after one of their frequent morning jogs. Conrad supposed he should not have been surprised – after all, it was natural that Yuuri should have a curiosity about Julia, and the nature of the soul that was now his own – but Yuuri had not asked about Julia for some time now, and Conrad had not been expecting it.

Yuuri's head was down as he bent to flex the muscle in his leg, and Conrad could not see his face. But his body language was relaxed, and Conrad had detected no distress in his tone.

"Susanna Julia was not buried, Heika. Her body was burned, as a precaution against her blood being used to create the Wincott poison."

"Oh…" Yuuri stood back up and gazed at Conrad sadly. "I'm sorry, Conrad."

"There's nothing to apologise for, Heika."

"It's _Yuuri_", his king reminded him. And then, in a much softer voice: "I'm sorry anyway. You must miss her."

Was he upset on Conrad's behalf that there was no gravestone to visit, as seemed to be the popular custom on Earth? Or was it something else, something more that worried at him?

"I don't think there's a person who knew her that doesn't miss her", Conrad said.

"Mm. I don't even really know that much about her, but I can tell that a lot of people loved her." He absent-mindedly traced the shape of the pendant beneath his shirt.

"That's true. Julia had a way of touching the heart of everybody she met, changing their lives somehow. Often in ways that they didn't discover until much later."

"Do you think she knew that?"

"I think she knew a lot that she didn't say. She had a way of looking at you sometimes, like she knew something about you that you didn't."

"That's what I thought too-" Yuuri flushed, realising what he was saying too late. He looked at Conrad a little guiltily, as though he expected Conrad to be angry or sceptical.

"I'm glad you had the opportunity to meet her yourself", Conrad smiled. "She was certainly a woman worth knowing. Much like yourself, in that regard."

"How- what did you- I didn't tell anyone-" Yuuri stammered himself to a stop.

"Yuuri, just because Julia is no longer among the living does not mean that she has left this world for good", Conrad told him gently. Before he could think better of it, he took Yuuri's hand in his own. "There is no grave, but there's a place where people leave flowers for her. I can take you there if you like."

Yuuri nodded. "Thank you, Conrad."

His blush deepened, but his fingers curled quietly to grip Conrad's hand a little tighter.


	30. Taking the Hint

**My 30th chapter! I wanted to write something a little different for it this time, and when I sat down at the computer, this is what came out. Thank you to everybody who has been reading and commenting on my work so far. Although I may not be able to post more fanfiction for a while (5 months to go on my PhD!), I will keep writing as much as I am able.**

* * *

Conrad awoke with the peculiar, almost light-headed sensation that told him a lot of time had passed.

He shifted, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings, and felt the tug of stitches embedded in his thigh. The curtains were drawn, but the play of light and shadow filtering through the cracks let him know that it was sometime late in the afternoon. The air was perfectly still, as though it were holding its breath, waiting.

Next to the bed, Yuuri was slumped in a chair, fast asleep.

On closer examination, Yuuri did not look like he was sleeping so much as he had simply passed out where he sat. His clothes were rumpled, his cheeks hollow. Even the shape of his wrists, peeking out from the sleeve of his jacket, looked fragile. Conrad frowned. Exactly how long had he been out?

Pulling down the top sheet, Conrad looked down to inspect the damage, and counted fifteen tidy stitches. The wound seemed to be healing well – blood loss, combined with sheer exhaustion, were probably the only explanations for his current state.

Yuuri didn't stir when Conrad gingerly tested out his footing. Did not even change his pattern of breathing as Conrad began, laboriously, to dress himself. He left Yuuri where he was before quietly shutting the door behind him, loathe to disrupt what was obviously a slumber of fatigue. It was time to locate Gunter and Gwendal, and find out just what was going on. Why had Yuuri been left alone in his room, and why had he been allowed to exhaust himself to this point? While Yuuri had been watching over Conrad, who had been taking care of Yuuri?

He didn't bother to knock at Gwendal's study. Gunter was already there; both men looked on as Conrad limped in.

"Should you be up?"

"Yuuri is asleep in my room", Conrad pointed out.

Gunter's immense look of relief did not make Conrad feel any better. "I'm glad. He hadn't slept in days, no matter how many times we begged him to retire."

"What do you mean, days? How could you be so careless!" Conrad could not remember the last time he had been this angry.

"Three. Sit down, Conrart, before you fall down." Gwendal gestured impatiently to an empty chair.

Conrad ignored him. "Tell me why you left Yuuri alone."

"Heika refused to leave your side", Gunter explained. "Not for rest, nor for anything else. He wouldn't stop trying to use his maryoku to heal you even after you had ceased to bleed-"

"-And you just _let_ him?"

"Believe me when I say we had no choice in the matter", Gwendal told him. A disapproving frown was etched between his brows. "He ordered us both from the room when we attempted to intervene."

Conrad shook his head. "You still could have-"

-"Be quiet, Conrart!" Gwendal snapped, surging to his feet. "You know _nothing_ of how Yuuri-heika reacted when you were brought back to the castle. How he would not move from your chambers even for a moment, no matter how many times we tried. How he would not eat so that he could continue to force every last drop of his maryoku out interrupted. How he has not smiled, not _once_, since seeing you unconscious and pouring blood!" Gwendal sounded every bit as angry as Conrad felt. The accusation was there, unspoken but all the more conspicuous for its absence: _How could you allow this to happen?_

There was a resounding silence as Conrad stared, and as Gwendal rubbed tiredly at his forehead, embarrassed at his outburst.

"Heika has barely spoken a word, other than to tell us to leave", Gunter whispered, breaking the stillness.

"In no uncertain terms, either", muttered Gwendal.

It was becoming difficult to breathe. "Why…?"

Gwendal sighed. "You are both fools. But while I can see how Heika could be so stupidly naïve, I can find no excuse for you." And then, when Conrad could only continue to gaze at him in mute confusion: "He loves you, Conrart. He _loves_ you."

"… Gunter?"

The taller man nodded. "It's true. For someone as astute as you, I can't imagine why it has taken this long for you to notice."

Conrad managed a faint reply. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You think you would have listened? I know you, brother. You would have denied your own feelings to the grave, for fear of scaring him away."

To that, Conrad had no answer.

"Go to him, Conrad", Gunter urged him. "For Shinou's sake, take the hint and tell him how you feel. You've kept him waiting long enough."

"I…"

And then Conrad was out the door without knowing quite how he had gotten there, running, stumbling, as fast as his injured leg would allow him – back to a room where the Maou was waiting for Shin Makoku's most foolish soldier to finally see what had been right before his eyes for years.

This time, when Yuuri woke up, Conrad would be ready.


	31. The Sweetest Thing

**I'm not procrastinating. Honest. For KitElizaKing, who prompted me with 'A Taste of Honey'. I hope this is sinfully delicious enough for you. :)**

* * *

They're at that slightly awkward stage in their relationship where they're not precisely together, but not exactly apart, either.

Wolfram has not slept in Yuuri's bed for several months, and Yuuri has not given any indication that he's looking to fill that space. Yet his stolen glances at Conrad are like a spark between them, and Conrad would be lying if he said that his hand on Yuuri's shoulder, or the way in which his fingers reach out to brush a stray leaf from Yuuri's hair, are entirely platonic. It's like a dance – they are both gliding around the other, moving as a pair and almost, _almost_ touching.

But not quite. Not yet.

And so for a few weeks, Yuuri gazes at Conrad when he thinks Conrad isn't looking and hurriedly tears his eyes away whenever he's caught. Conrad watches Yuuri bathing and attempts to keep up with the conversation while pretending that he isn't mesmerised by the soap suds slowly trailing down Yuuri's neck.

All in all, it's something of a relief when Yuuri disappears home for a few days, because at least it gives them some time away from the sexual tension that's about as thick as one of Gunter's history books. Conrad uses the time to throw himself into his work, in the hope that he won't have the energy to spare to think about Yuuri as much by the time his king returns.

When Yuuri does return, with a splash and a grin that informs Conrad all his hopes have been in vain, he comes bearing presents. One of them is something even Conrad hasn't tried, although he knows what it is as soon as Yuuri shows him.

"It's honey", he explains to the others. "You can put it on top of bread or use it for baking." It's in a plastic container shaped like a bear, and there's a small nozzle at the top where the honey squeezes out.

They all dutifully try some, Yuuri measuring out a little for each of them on teaspoons. Conrad hangs back, waiting for everyone else to finish. He likes watching Yuuri savour his daughter's expression as she tastes the sugary spread for the first time, and trying to suppress a smile as Gwendal struggles to hide how much he likes the flavour.

Soon Conrad is the only one left. Sure enough, Yuuri's dark eyes dart in his direction before quickly shifting away again. Then he surprises Conrad by looking at him a second time.

"Did you want to try some, Conrad?"

"I'd love to, Yuuri."

Yuuri beams, probably because Conrad has remembered to call him by name. And then something peculiar happens, and Yuuri's smile gradually fades.

"There aren't any teaspoons left", he says. There's a hint of a challenge in his expression. His eyes drop to examine the bottle in his hands, then back up to Conrad. As his hand move to tip the bottle upside down and squeeze out a few strings of honey onto a finger, Conrad can only stare.

The honey is syrupy and amber-coloured, and it coats Yuuri's digit in a sticky glaze.

"Um…"

Conrad snaps back to reality in time to see that Yuuri has just remembered to be embarrassed, and so before either of them can change their minds and pull back from each other long enough to begin another round of heated evasion, Conrad closes the gap between them. His mouth only swallows the very tip, but honey mixes with the promise on his tongue as he sucks Yuuri's finger clean.

"Oh", says Yuuri softly when Conrad is finished.

"Yes", Conrad agrees and, seeing that Yuuri doesn't object, decides that the next logical step is to ensure that Yuuri doesn't miss out on the honey either.

It is the sweetest kiss Conrad has ever tasted.


	32. Morning Sickness

**For KitElizaKing, who prompted me with 'Morning Sickness' (but unrelated to any type of pregnancy).**

* * *

"Yuuri. Yuuri."

He woke up to his body being gently shaken. Sleepily, Yuuri opened his eyes a crack. "Mm?"

"It's time for me to go. I'm sorry."

"Oh. That's okay. I might stay in bed a little longer though."

"That's fine, but Yuuri… you have to let go of me."

Yuuri blinked, his mind still struggling to work properly. "What do you…" His eyes travelled downwards, eventually stopping to rest on where his own hand was gripping one of Conrad's arms like a vice. Face growing hot, his fingers relaxed their hold. "Um. Sorry, Conrad."

He was rewarded with a dazzling smile. He didn't know how Conrad could do it, so early in the morning. "That's alright. Go back to sleep if you like – I just need to get changed."

Yuuri nodded and pulled the sheet up a little higher as Conrad walked over to the chest of drawers, gaze alighting on one area of bare skin before promptly flitting to another, not knowing quite where to look. Obviously he had seen Conrad naked before, but… this waking up next to him each day was going to take some getting used to. And speaking of getting used to things…

Yuuri shifted in the bed, his heart speeding up a little at the sight. He could hardly believe this man was finally his. Conrad was not perfect, even Yuuri knew that, but he was sure that the soldier was as close to perfect as a person could get, personality-wise and outward appearance both. Yuuri was aware that, at least for males, waking up with a… a problem was considered quite normal. Still, it wasn't something he was all that familiar with yet, and he wasn't sure he wanted Conrad to know about it.

"Conrad, um… whenwillyoubeback?"

Conrad straightened from where he had been buttoning his trousers, his top half still gloriously unclothed. "Around breakfast time, I should think. Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed."

"Yes! I mean, I'm fine, totally fine. Y-You should probably hurry, you don't want to be late."

"Are you sure?"

Now Conrad was coming back towards him, the concern evident in his expression, and it really wasn't helping matters that his hair was still not brushed, or that Yuuri could make out the faint smell of sweat and something else, slightly muskier, in the air around them. He shifted, thighs rubbing together.

"I'm completely, one-hundred percent fine!"

Conrad paused, his hand already reaching out to cup the side of Yuuri's face. "Well. As you insist, then."

Conrad continued his dressing. Yuuri tried not to stare as Conrad's torso, his broad shoulders, were covered up, inch by inch, and failed. By the time Conrad was about to open the door, he was sure he could feel himself begin to tremble with the effort of keeping still.

"See you later", he told Conrad, doing his best to keep his voice light.

"I'll be back soon", Conrad promised him. And then, horror of horrors, Conrad was walking back to the bed, with no warning whatsoever and giving him no time to try and better hide his predicament.

Conrad leaned over, and his breath tickled past Yuuri's ear.

"Soon", he said, voice lowered to a whisper. "Save some for me."

And then he was gone, the door squeaking closed behind him – leaving Yuuri the most embarrassed and, he was sure, the most turned on he had ever been in his life.


	33. Keeping Balance

**Thank you everyone for reading. This will most likely be my last piece of fanfiction until March, since I am now in the final stages of my PhD. Catch you then!  
**

* * *

"C-Conrad, I don't know how much exactly I'll be able to improve. Me and horses don't really seem to… get along." Yuuri tightened his grip on the reigns, his knuckles turning white as his lower half teetered in the saddle.

It was not difficult to see why Yuuri might be so unsure, given that his only other experience alone on a horse thus far had involved an unintentional gallop all the way from the city gates to the castle. He had no doubt set some kind of record, but it was not the way Conrad would have planned a first lesson.

The soldier smiled reassuringly. "We won't be going anywhere. Around in circles, that's it. And I'll be with you the entire time."

"Are you sure he likes me? He seems… um, a little fidgety."

"Horses are intelligent creatures, Heika. If you are nervous, the horse will be nervous."

"Oh. Right." Yuuri squirmed a little more, then visibly made himself settle down in his seat. Only the way he continued to clutch at the reigns betrayed his anxiety.

"Ready?" Conrad nudged his horse gently into a walk, knowing that Yuuri's horse would follow of its own accord. Time enough later to worry about the niceties of direction – first was balance, which would better come from the knowledge that his mount was not about to charge off into the sunset at a moment's notice.

Looking back, he was pleased to see that Yuuri was at least sitting straight-backed, watching and copying Conrad's posture with an earnestness that Conrad found rather charming. Conrad had already known, before even hearing Yuuri speak, that there would be humour there, and an eagerness for life. He had not guessed that Yuuri might also possess the kind of quiet seriousness that made him bite his lower lip as he concentrated, or a determination that darkened his eyes further still.

With an effort, Conrad pulled his mind back to the lesson. "Heika, I know it feels strange but if you hold the reigns lower to the saddle then you will gain more control."

"Like this? But then how do you let the horse know if you want to slow down?"

The lesson continued for another half hour – Yuuri gradually becoming more familiar with the movement of his horse's gait, Conrad keeping an eye on him all the while, never pressing him faster than a walk. Yuuri was admittedly not naturally gifted, but it was easy to see that he was a hard worker, and enjoyed being outdoors. It was a better start than many.

Conrad caught the low hiss of pain as Yuuri shifted his body, getting ready to dismount as Conrad held the horse steady for him.

"It's normal to be a little stiff until your muscles become accustomed to the exercise", Conrad assured him. "You did very well."

"Right now it's mostly my fingers. But I can tell it'll probably be worse tomorrow in other places." The accompanying grin lit up his face, and something inside Conrad leapt in response. His hand was reaching for Yuuri almost before he realised it.

"Heika will find that it's the thighs which do most of the work. That's where the grip is needed most." He handed Yuuri smoothly down, his touch entirely platonic. It belied the pace of his heartbeat.

Yuuri was blushing, and Conrad abruptly turned away. No doubt he could use a few extra lessons in balance himself – albeit of a slightly different kind.


	34. Trust

**I'm on an enforced break from PhD work until next week (after this I'll be disappearing again for another month or so), and I got the sudden urge to fic. This piece is intended to be set at some point soon after Conrad's return from Dai Shimaron.**

* * *

Yuuri came back to himself with a start, gasping at the unexpected sensation of human contact. With an effort, he turned his head to the side.

"Conrad", he coughed. "What's… what are you…" His mind felt sluggish, his body hot and uncomfortable. He tried to push away the several layers of blankets that covered him, but Conrad stilled his movements.

"Forgive me, Heika, but these must stay on."

"It's so hot..." he protested.

"You have a fever, Heika. Do you remember?"

Yuuri shook his head. The room was spinning, too fast to keep up, and he was burning too much to remember anything clearly except what it had once felt like to be cool. Deliciously cold, like snow falling and eating ice cream and the wind in his hair and waves-

"-Please drink this, Heika. It will make you feel better." Yuuri opened his eyes again to see a glass of water being held in front of him, a steady hand guiding it to his lips. Obediently, he swallowed, although the pain of doing so made him wince, and the taste of the water was a little odd. It felt pleasant against his parched throat for the first couple of mouthfuls, but after that it tasted almost acidic, and Yuuri kept drinking only because Conrad's other hand was not letting his head fall back to the pillow.

"That's good, Heika, just a little more", Conrad urged him. "After that you will be able to sleep again. The medicine will help."

The last few sips were awful, bitter and powdery despite the water, and Yuuri tried to push Conrad away.

"Not yet", said Conrad. His grip was firm, undeterred by Yuuri's obvious desire to squirm away. "You need to finish all of it, Heika, or the medicine will not work effectively." He waited silently as Yuuri took a breath, but his arm did not move from where it was holding him up. Finally, Yuuri made a face and finished, sighing in relief as Conrad lowered his head gently back down.

"Well done." This time Conrad's voice sounded like it was coming from across the room, although Yuuri could still feel him wiping a cloth, cold and wet, over Yuuri's face. Yuuri reached out, searching, until his fingers found Conrad's own.

"Heika?" The voice was fading away, and Yuuri tightened his grip, suddenly afraid of something he could not name.

"Conrad-!" He had intended to call out for him loudly, but the sound crawled weakly from his lips and only frightened him more.

"It's alright, Heika, I'm here, I've got you…" The voice wove in and out of Yuuri's consciousness, warm and soothing, but Yuuri had to know.

"Are you going to leave me again?" _When I wake up, will you be gone? Is it a dream, did you never come back after all? Please don't let me fall asleep, Conrad…! _And then he was being drawn down, down, and he couldn't tell if Conrad had heard him or if he himself had spoken at all. The fire came back, dancing along his nerves and dulling his senses so that what he felt and said and heard were all mixed up in the blaze. Peripherally, he was aware that he fought the sheets that tangled his arms and legs and made him sweat, struggling futilely to free himself from their weight. Against his will, he was being held there and forced to burn, the flames licking white-hot and savage. He had to know, but the fire was eating him up, and over the rawness of his throat he could only repeat one name in the blind hope that he would still be there after it was all over.

_I'm here. I swear it, I will not leave you._

Stripped of his power, Yuuri clung onto those words until, a long time later, the world began slowly to right itself once more.

He surfaced from the pyre, limbs twitching restlessly and his body weak and sticky. But the morning sun filtered through the window and the cloth on his forehead was mercifully cool, and Conrad was gripping his hand with a kind of finality that suggested he was loathe to leave even the room, much less Shin Makoku.

"… Conrad…"

His voice dragged like rusty nails. But Conrad was looking at him, smiling and smiling like it was the best sound he had ever heard, and Yuuri could not help but smile back in spite of everything.

"You didn't leave me."

"No."

"Good." His eyes fluttered closed again and he slept, no longer lost and babbling to his delirium.

His fingers curled too trustingly about Conrad's, and the soldier could not bring himself to let go.


	35. With Eyes to See

**Just a little something to tide me over for the next two weeks, after which my PhD will have been handed in. Theoretically, I should then be free to read and write until sometime in July, when I will be travelling to Japan to live and work for a year.**

* * *

Conrad didn't remember much of it afterwards; the day had a hazy, dream-like quality to it, as if the events of that sunny afternoon really had occurred in some surreal vision.

Conrad pieced the fragments together later, fitting them painstakingly together like shards of glass as though, with just enough clarity, he might have been able to go back and fix things so that they never happened. Many details had simply been missing when Conrad had gone back to sift though the memories – the impression of things, like the brittle crunching of leaves underfoot or the ragged breath of the horse, hot and heavy over his hand – were still present, but the finer details were missing. He didn't remember running over those leaves, or crouching down beside the horse to turn Yuuri's face towards him.

He did not remember opening his mouth to scream.

* * *

Yuuri was sitting easily in the saddle, his body swaying with the horse's movements. It had taken him a fair amount of practice to get this far, learning how to anticipate the motions and adjust his own actions accordingly. The timing had been the most difficult part – at which point during his mount's gait was he supposed to lift his upper body and push the weight onto his legs, and when was he meant to relax and fall back again? But once he had gotten the hang of this, riding came with less effort, and Yuuri delighted in the smoothness of it all. It didn't take much of a nudge for Yuuri to lean forwards of his own volition, his grip relaxing so that the horse had room to arch and stretch its neck further as it eased into a canter.

He was doing just that when Conrad heard it – his ears recognised the sound before his mind had the chance to catch up. A low, whooshing sound like the air had been suddenly compressed and narrowed to a fine point. Yuuri was only a few metres in front of him, and Conrad's first instinct was to yell out a warning, even though there was nothing yet visibly amiss.

"Yuu-"

Yuuri half-turned towards him, and then there was only a high-pitched shrieking as Yuuri's horse faltered and dropped as one of its legs gave way, bearing the rest of the animal hard to the ground. Conrad's mount shied in panic, but Conrad's head was still turned towards Yuuri. He felt the king's dark eyes on him for a moment, wide and frightened, before the horse slammed to the dirt. Yuuri was carried over with it, his figure disappearing from Conrad's view as the horse fell sideways, legs still desperately churning at thin air. Unable to fight the momentum, it rolled.

Conrad was already slipping from his own horse before it had stopped. Abandoning the reins, discarding the danger, the soldier simply ran. The inhuman sound that emerged from his throat echoed through the clearing and brought castle inhabitants racing toward the source.

Gwendal arrived in time to see Conrad kneeling beside the still form of his king, fingers gently tracing his face. Beside him, the fallen horse was grunting its pain, eyes rolling back as it struggled to regain purchase. An arrow was buried deep in its left flank, where the muscles continued to twitch uncontrollably. Against the backdrop of browns and greens, the red feathered fletching stood out like a bloody beacon.

"Conrart!"

"No", the soldier was whispering, his fingers now running through Yuuri's hair. "Nononono-" Gwendal crouched next to his brother and, without preamble, lowered himself so that his head hovered just above Yuuri's chest. He listened for several moments, his mouth pressed into a firm line as Conrad fell silent. When he could hear nothing, his eyes darted towards Conrad's, holding his gaze noiselessly. They both waited.

When Yuuri finally drew in a breath and let it back out, barely a sigh, Gwendal had to look away at the expression on Conrad's face. It was an expression meant for no man to see – one that Gwendal had witnessed only once before, years ago. Although the Maou, still unconscious, could not see it, Gwendal felt like he had been caught intruding on something private. Wordlessly, he busied himself examining Yuuri's body as best as he was able without moving it, as Conrad briefly lifted an arm to shield his eyes.

* * *

Moments later, when Yuuri came to with a strangled moan at what Gwendal had miraculously surmised to be only several cracked ribs and a fractured shoulder, Conrad's features were schooled back into something resembling normalcy.

"Yuuri…"

There was nothing in Conrad's tone to hint at his loss of control. His voice held only the amount of concern that was proper from an adjutant to his charge as Yuuri roused himself enough to respond, their exchange low and quiet. Neither of the pair seemed to notice that Conrad's hand continued to stroke through Yuuri's hair, his touch as unthinking and intimate as a lover's.

Gwendal turned away from the sight. His stoic features betrayed nothing as he arranged for several men to act as a guard while he himself, along with several small groups, veered off into the trees.

Behind him were two fools, whose feelings for each other were plain enough for those with eyes to see.

And somewhere nearby, in all probability now running for his life, was Yuuri's would-have-been assassin.


	36. Homecoming

**Just a small sappy ficlet I wrote on the spur of the moment. I submitted my PhD on Monday, so I should have a bit more time up my sleeve for writing. :)**

* * *

It was a little-known secret that Yuuri, for all his vacant stares and long silences whenever Conrad was away for more than a few days, was missed by Conrad just as much as the Maou missed the soldier.

Conrad wore a self-assured smile and possessed a gaze that hid all reservations; though those closest to him might suspect otherwise, most were easily fooled into believing that Conrad was as unaffected by Yuuri's absence as he appeared.

But Yuuri, pressed up against Conrad that night, the curve of his back fitting just so into the warmth of Conrad's stomach as if it had been shaped purely for this purpose, knew better.

At times, Conrad would hungrily divest a very willing Yuuri from his clothes like he might die if he didn't, and his mouth upon Yuuri's was hard and hot. He would mark Yuuri's skin determinedly – never hurting, but with a kind of urgency that communicated his need without words.

On other nights, Conrad took his time, fingers trembling slightly, to carefully unbutton Yuuri's jacket, his shirt, and press his lips to the nape of Yuuri's neck. He would close his eyes as Yuuri's fingers tangled in his hair and traced the line of muscles of his back, whispering something meant for nobody else in the world to hear.

And Yuuri's skin would flush a pleasing red, not with embarrassment but with love. Love, and anticipation.

This was his beloved husband, come home once again at last, and he would allow nothing on any earth to separate them.


	37. Untamed

Yuuri's breath hissed out softly between his teeth.

"I'm hurting you. Heika, I'm so sorry-"

"-No more of that. Not when we're alone, at least, Conrad. And it's not your fault, you know that."

"Yuuri", Conrad allowed. "But lover or no, my first job is still to protect you. You were injured." His hands lingered over Yuuri's back, tracing the bruises that flowered there. On Yuuri's fairer skin they bloomed like ink stains.

"It wasn't your fault", Yuuri repeated, and Conrad dipped his fingers back into the pot of salve, preparing to anoint another bruise. "You follow a reckless king."

Silence fell around them, the room darkening as evening slowly fell. It was not an uncomfortable silence, although Conrad could tell that Yuuri was thinking hard about something. Sitting behind him on the bed, Conrad could not see the Maou's eyes, but Conrad could read his silences almost as well as could read his words. He pressed his fingertips down, just hard enough so that the salve could be rubbed into the skin. Only the twitching of muscles in Yuuri's back betrayed his pain this time, as he forced himself to remain still, his breath even. Conrad would have apologised again if he had thought Yuuri would let him.

"Conrad?"

"Mm?"

"Do you regret this?"

"Not a thing… other than the state of your back, of course."

"A king that does not act like a king", Yuuri mused. "That's what Wolfram says."

"It never crossed my mind for a moment that you might be an ordinary king", Conrad smiled. Strands of dark hair tickled his knuckles, and he brushed them carefully aside so that they did not get in the way.

"I can tie it back."

"No, leave it. It suits you."

"Tangled and messy?"

"Untamed."

He was rewarded with a grin. "I don't think that's how Gwendal put it."

"Gwendal pretends to be angry when he is only worried. He is sworn to safeguard you as much as I."

"Conrad." Yuuri's voice had grown serious again. "This was my own fault, I know it. I'm stubborn and I'm careless, and this probably won't be the last time something like this happens. If anything, it should be me apologising to you."

"Yuuri." Strong arms wrapped around Yuuri's waist, drawing him gently backwards. "You are strong-willed and you are an idealist, and I love you for who you are. You need not apologise for that."

Yuuri leaned back further, tilting his head so that he gazed up at Conrad. His mouth curved upwards. "It seems we make a fine pair, then."

"Indeed we do."

Yuuri's lips met his – softly at first, then more insistently.

"It's getting dark. Shall I light some candles?"

"What for? I don't need them for what I had in mind."

Conrad's laughter, mixed with a groan of undisguised longing, reverberated up Yuuri's spine as they fell back into the sheets.


	38. Swimming Home

Yuuri came to slowly, as though he had been asleep for a long time. His body felt drained; the fact that Conrad's face was right above him and upside-down was surprising, but not quite enough to make him want to move. Beyond Conrad's face was the sky, and his own skin and clothes, despite being soaking wet, were warm – the sun had probably heated them, Yuuri decided.

His head was lying on something firm – not hard enough to be the ground. One of Conrad's hands was tangled in his hair, the other sat comfortably near his shoulder.

It felt kind of nice, even if there was a reasonably sized puddle of water around him. Them.

"Hey Conrad." His voice came out raspy and strained.

"Good afternoon, Heika." Conrad's voice sounded a bit odd too, come to think of it, like there was something stuck fast in his throat.

Yuuri blinked, attempting to marshal his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

Conrad only shook his head. "Nothing now."

"Oh." It took Yuuri a moment to realise that his head must be pillowed on Conrad's thighs – that would certainly explain why Conrad's face was the wrong way around. That mystery solved, Yuuri turned his attention to the puddle of water.

"This might be a stupid question, but why am I here? Wait, I didn't turn into the Maou again, did I?" Wordlessly, Conrad shook his head again, and Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. For a second there I thought I might have wrecked another pirate ship or something. So, what happened?"

Conrad still didn't reply. Yuuri shifted his gaze and watched the hand on his shoulder tighten. It shook. That had always been Conrad's way, Yuuri remembered. His face showed nothing but his hands always told the truth. Now, white-knuckled, Conrad gripped Yuuri like he thought the king might disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough. His fingers were digging in hard enough to bruise, and Yuuri didn't have the heart to tell Conrad to let go, even though he could recollect nothing of where he had been or what he had been doing before this.

Almost nothing. A lone memory – not even that, a fragment of a dream. A long way down, or perhaps the sun a long way up. A stream of bubbles in one unbroken chain, and then less and less of them. A shadow blocking out the last of the sunlight, the blue growing darker as though it were closing in around him. Silence, not simply a lack of sound but its own presence, reaching out to him. One last, rebel bubble escaping, up and up and then gone, beyond the last of his sight. He was floating, weightless, boneless, drifting...

"Conrad..."

"It's alright, Yuuri." The thing that had been caught in Conrad's throat was still there, only louder.

"No, I... I fell, or something pulled me, and I- you..." The warmth had fled, leaving him suddenly shivering, and Conrad was whispering something like It's Alright, It's Alright Yuuri, even though it wasn't alright, it wasn't alright at all because somewhere else in his head he was closing his eyes and slipping quietly away and nearly leaving Conrad behind.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry Conrad-!"

Yuuri's vision blurred. As if they needed any more water. It ran down the sides of his face and onto Conrad's already-sodden uniform, even as Yuuri remembered the ghost of Conrad's lips covering his own and breathing out, hard. A priceless gift; both the touch, more intimate than anything Conrad had given him so far, as well as the air, enough to last him until Yuuri had been able to breathe his own again.

It was too bad he had more or less slept through the entire thing.

It was a while before he could see well enough to search out Conrad's face again. Conrad's eyes were red, he noticed, but the soldier's hands had finally relaxed.

Yuuri wiped his eyes and managed a shaky smile. "Oh man, Wolfram is so going to kill us."

Conrad's startled laugh was enough to make Yuuri's shivering subside. "I imagine he will, Heika."

Unconsciously, Yuuri's fingers moved to brush across his lips. "I won't tell if you won't."

He allowed Conrad to manoeuvre him upright, and said not a word as Conrad pressed his head gently atop Yuuri's to hide his tears.


	39. Caught in the Act

**I've probably written too much angst and hurt/comfort lately. My bad - I'll make it up to you with this. Warning: lime. As always, reviews are love and prompts are accepted, although I can't promise anything. I just write when the mood and inspiration hits.  
**

* * *

Yuuri moans – a long, drawn-out sound that makes Conrad want to ravage his king and lover even more than he already is. It has been several years of difficult waiting since Conrad has wanted this, dreamed of it, but he must admit it has been worth the wait; the sight of Yuuri beneath him, wriggling and gasping and mouthing Conrad's name with not a stitch of clothing to cover him, is better than he ever thought it could have been.

He places his fingers to the side of Yuuri's face, cupping it in his palm and steering Yuuri's gaze upward so that they are staring eye to eye. Right on cue, Yuuri's blush intensifies, and Conrad is hard put not to laugh. He masks his amusement by dropping lower to bestow a kiss on lips already swollen from the couple's passion, expertly parting them with a tongue that quickly provokes another very delightful noise from deep in Yuuri's throat. Yuuri, _his_ Yuuri, virtually spread-eagled underneath Conrad's body in a gesture of submissive desire, is intoxicating. It becomes something of a game – how long can Conrad wait before he has to have him, how long can Yuuri hold out before giving himself up completely? Soon – they both know this.

It is just as Conrad is allowing Yuuri to fumble, fingers shaking, to remove the soldier's pants, that the door squeaks open. Neither of the men notice right away, too caught up in their heated actions, but they definitely notice when another decidedly human squeak, this one an odd mixture of embarrassment and somehow gleeful surprise, finally stops them in their tracks.

"Oh! Oh, my…" Doria's face is a picture of red-faced astonishment, and Conrad is dimly amazed that she doesn't drop the plateful of dishes she is holding. He supposes it would be only fitting if she did; this _is_ part of the main castle after all, and in their hunger for one another neither he nor Yuuri had cared enough to get up and lock the door, despite the fact that it is barely afternoon.

Conrad's body moves on its own though, instinct making him shift to cover Yuuri's more… exposed areas before the maid can get too much of an eyeful. Yuuri, meanwhile, looks more embarrassed even than Doria, and for a minute his eyes squeeze shut like he's trying to make himself disappear. Personally, Conrad finds the situation more funny than anything else, but for modesty's sake he makes sure Yuuri's wonderfully naked body is safely behind him before flashing a charming smile in the young woman's direction. It is quite fortunate that Yuuri hadn't gotten to his pants yet.

"Doria, forgive Yuuri's and my current state. I do apologise, we were just-"

"-Oh no, not at all, I didn't mean- I only meant to finish the- please, carry on!" The maid flees the room in a hail of stuttered excuse-me's and prettily bobbing curls – no doubt in a hurry to report to the rest of the serving staff betting pool. Someone (and Conrad suspects it might be Doria herself) is going to have a much heavier purse by tonight.

"Oh god…" Conrad turns to see Yuuri covering his face with a shaky hand. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Actually, I don't think this is the first time a Maou and his consort were caught in a compromising situation. Apparently one of the previous Maou's was once spotted in the kitchen with-"

"-I don't want to know!"

Conrad takes pity on him and relents. Teasing Yuuri is fun, but they had definitely been in the middle of something even more enjoyable.

"I think we should lock the door first", Yuuri reminds him a moment later, voice somewhat breathless once more. Conrad only smiles and undertakes to ensure that Yuuri gifts him with that wondrous sound again. It is low and guttural this time, and accompanied by an involuntarily shudder against exploring hands.

The door stays unlocked.

Thankfully, Conrad and Yuuri remain undisturbed for the rest of the day.


	40. Where the Heart Is

**Because there aren't enough fics where Miko gets to play a significant role. And let's face it, she's a pretty kick-ass character.**

* * *

Yuuri was beginning to think he might have a contrary personality. After so many years of viewing himself as a fairly simple person with fairly simple tastes, this notion came as something of a shock. It didn't take much to content him – the sun on his face, or the leathery feel of a baseball glove covering his hand – but lately, it seemed like he was never quite as happy as he could have been. Like there was something missing, even though everything he had always had was right there, just as it normally was.

Okay, so admittedly 'normal' wasn't a word that could be used to describe his life, what with him constantly being sucked down toilets into a fantasy world and all, but still – that didn't make _him_ extraordinary, it just meant the circumstances surrounding him were a bit odd. He himself, Yuuri thought, was almost painfully ordinary in every way, and it hadn't been until very recently that he had been… not unhappy exactly, more like on edge.

He had only really noticed it when he had found himself restless, unable to settle to anything much if there was nothing to fully distract himself with. When he was at home he wished he was in Shin Makoku, and when he was in Shin Makoku he felt closed in and fidgety. Granted, being Maou was not all that exciting – in fact, the odd adventure aside, being the ruler of a country was usually a decidedly dull job – but he had been doing this for a while now, so it didn't make sense that he had only been uneasy for the past few weeks.

His mood certainly hadn't been helped by the fact that Conrad seemed unusually elusive lately. It wasn't as though the man had been completely avoiding him, but Yuuri was sure he had not been imagining that Conrad had become far more difficult to track down than he used to be. Whenever Conrad spoke to him, it was nearly always in the company of others, and the rare times they were alone together, Conrad was curiously quiet. If Yuuri didn't know any better he would have wondered if he had somehow offended the soldier in some way. As it was, he could only assume Conrad had simply been busy. This conclusion, however logical, failed to settle his nerves any.

And now, having wished to briefly escape the vague awkwardness he had sensed but not been able to put a name to, Yuuri was back on earth again and feeling distinctly out of sorts. It was like being homesick, only that made no sense at all considering he was already at home. For several days he prowled the house like it was some kind of prison, until his mother finally waited until Shoma and Shori were away before whipping up one of her famous curries, serving Yuuri one of the largest portions he had ever clapped eyes on.

"Eat up, Yuu-chan!"

"Mom! I don't need-"

"-Call me Mama, Yuu-chan!" Miko admonished. Her expression was cheerful, but Yuuri recognised the stubborn glint in her eye. He sighed, resigning himself to being overly full for at least the rest of the day and most likely the next.

"Want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about." Yuuri heaped up his spoon, figuring the faster he finished, the quicker he could leave.

"I know my family. Something's bothering you", Miko persisted.

"Nothing's bothering me. It's just…"

"Hmm?"

He supposed it had been obvious enough, and it was near impossible to hide anything from his mother anyway. "Lately things have been kind of weird, that's all. I can't explain it."

"Well, you are at that age, after all. My baby boy is growing up, a mother can always tell. I remember when your brother was like that, always hiding himself away in his room, as if I didn't know he was-"

"-_Mom!_"

"It's perfectly natural, Yuu-chan."

"That's not what I… anyway, it's not like that!"

Miko nodded sagely. "You're right, you're a bit past that part now, I imagine. I suppose it must be love, then."

Yuuri choked on his mouthful of rice.

"There's no need to be ashamed about it", his mother carried on, blithely ignoring his reaction. "It happens to nearly everyone sooner or later, and of course you're feeling cooped up if you can't be near her. Or him", she added almost as an afterthought.

Still red-faced and spluttering, Yuuri could barely respond. "It's not… I don't… I haven't even-"

"Love can be a hard road", Miko sighed dramatically. "Should I tell him? What words could I possible use? How can I know for sure he feels the same way? So many questions, and none of them with a straight answer."

"Mom, I already told you, that's not it!"

"And I told _you_ Yuu-chan, a mother knows these things."

Yuuri knew from experience it would be impossible to convince her otherwise. She was practically sparkling, and Yuuri wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if she and Cheri-sama ever happened to cross paths. He shuddered. Definitely not a good thought.

"Yuu-chan?"

Head down, Yuuri settled for shovelling the food into his mouth as quickly as possible.

"I could guess, you know", Miko said quietly, all trace of dramatics vanished. "Handsome one, isn't he?"

Yuuri made a noise somewhere between shock and horror, and a small smile curved Miko's lips gently upwards. Her eyes were looking past Yuuri now, seeing something other than what was in the present.

"It's never easy, is it? But boys your age shouldn't dwell on it. What other people will think, or what happens if you make a mess of it – these things shouldn't matter. You're still so young. I suppose I should be worried, but you've always been someone who has acted on your feelings. For you, that's as it should be." Her smile grew, and she absentmindedly tucked an errant strand of hair back behind her ear. "And really, you needn't worry so much about it either. I bet he's secretly waited for you the whole time. For both of your sakes, I hope you don't keep him waiting too much longer."

Yuuri stared, and Miko came back to herself with a start. "Whatever was I saying? Of course, you're not interested in such things, since you've never been in love yourself. Now finish your curry, Yuu-chan."

Silence seemed like the best course of action. Yuuri cleaned his plate in record time and rinsed the dishes while his mother flitted around the kitchen like a woman half her age, humming girlishly to herself. He was preparing to scuttle back upstairs and pretend the conversation had never taken place when Miko spoke again behind him, her voice soft.

"Yuu-chan. No matter what, you should always remember one thing. Home is where the heart is. It doesn't matter whether you're here or there, so long as you're with him."

Yuuri fled before she could say anything more, her words echoing in his head.


	41. Breaking Point II

**My apologies for not updating sooner – recently I've moved to Japan and now work here full-time, so I haven't felt like writing much. I'll continue to fic when I can though, and will still consider any prompts that readers send my way. Anyhow, this chapter is one that's been rolling around in my head for a while now, so I'm glad to have finally moulded it into written form. Thank you for sticking by me!**

* * *

"Yuuri… what are you doing here? You should be asleep-"

"I woke up", Yuuri explained simply. And although he did not say them, the words passed between the two of them like whispering ghosts. _As though I could continue to sleep, when I sensed your return?_ _I've been waiting for you._

Conrad turned his face away, the shadows clinging to it protectively. "You shouldn't be here, Yu… Heika. You shouldn't-"

"-Shouldn't what? Greet you when you come home? Be speaking to you alone like this?" His voice grew sharp. "There are a lot of things I shouldn't do, Conrad, and you and I both know that this is the least of them. But that's not what you're talking about, is it?"

Conrad's answer was to shift further away so that his body became partially hidden by the darkness. The sputtering candles bracketed on the wall served only to make the shadows appear deeper.

"Have you ever been ashamed of me when I was the one sitting in your place?" Yuuri asked, quieter this time.

Conrad's reaction was instantaneous, and this time it was his own voice that grew harsh. "Never! Not once have I thought anything but the highest of you, Heika, surely you must know this."

"Yet now you hide from me when our roles have been reversed."

Conrad was silent.

"Why are you afraid to show me?" Yuuri pressed. "I would never be repulsed, or think any less of you than you have of me. So why won't you let me _help_ you?"

"Yuuri… it's not as easy to just-"

Yuuri was not waiting for an excuse. "You haven't even been to see Gisela yet, have you? Or else you wouldn't be here."

They both waited, until the weight of the silence finally dredged up Conrad's reply.

"I didn't want to see you hurt. I don't-" Conrad's voice abruptly cut off as Yuuri's fingertips grazed his back, carefully skirting the wounds but not flinching away from the dirt or the blood.

"It does hurt", Yuuri admitted. "But I would rather share the pain. Wouldn't you?" He leaned in, speaking softly, and despite himself Conrad twisted to face the direction of Yuuri's voice.

"No." Try as he might, he had never been able to hide the truth from Yuuri. "No. I would rather keep it all for myself."

Yuuri's hand came away stained with red. "That's impossible. And without meaning to, you would only hurt us more by trying."

The bed dipped and creaked as Yuuri stood up, padding over to the door. "Wait here for a bit?" He turned and slipped quietly out, leaving the door partially open behind him. Conrad waited, heart hammering, aware of the turning point. His instincts were telling him to run. But Yuuri knew that, and had bid him stay, even though he had not quite closed the door. It could have been mere coincidence, but Conrad didn't think so. It never was with Yuuri.

A light approached. Yuuri came armed with more candles, and a cloth and bandages, and a small basin filled with water. He set them down on the table next to the bed, then turned dark eyes back on Conrad.

"Will you let me?" _Please?_

There was still time to stop this. Conrad could say no, and courteously request that his king try to get more sleep. He could take a step back, just like he'd always done before, and spare them both this battle. He could quench this flicker of hope before it could become something dangerous and hurt him even more.

"Alright."

It could barely be heard even in the hush of the night, but Yuuri smiled as though Conrad had granted him a priceless gift. _Thank you. Thank you for trusting me._

"Will you face the wall?"

Conrad did as he was asked, presenting his back to his Maou. There were scars there, both faded and new. His most recent injuries were already beginning to scab, although he could feel one still slowly oozing. Yuuri should not have to see this… he shuddered at the sound of a cloth being wrung out, of the droplets plopping back into the basin, imagining the water there being dyed with the colour of his blood.

But Yuuri knew, and said not a word as he began to clean and dress Conrad's wounds, treating every one of them like Conrad might splinter and crack under Yuuri's touch if he wasn't careful enough.

Yuuri needn't have taken such care. Beneath the caress of his fingers, Conrad was already breaking.


	42. Two

**Fluff, pure and simple. :) This one's for Lady of the Shards, whose prompt was 'picnic for two.'**

* * *

"Sneaking you out of your paperwork is becoming more difficult by the year", Conrad says, and the edges of his mouth quirk upwards so that Yuuri knows he is only teasing.

"I'm not sure it counts as 'sneaking out' if you've been planning something for weeks and the whole castle knows about it", returns Yuuri. "Especially since I had to do twice the paperwork yesterday to make up for it." His ink-stained hand is still aching slightly even now, but it's already been more than worth it – as if it had also planned for this day all along, the sun is shining in a near-cloudless sky, and although it is not quite yet summer, the air holds the promise of more warmth to come. Being married has not changed Yuuri's workload – if anything, it seems to have increased, and there are many things that only Yuuri, as ruler of Shin Makoku, can do no matter how willing Conrad might be to help shoulder the weight – but on a day like this, Yuuri cannot feel anything but content.

That feeling only grows as they near the water's edge. Conrad has chosen their spot well; despite its usual popularity, this particular part of the river is deserted, and Yuuri has a feeling that at some point later in the day, Conrad might just be in the mood to take advantage of their isolation. Right on cue, Conrad glances at him and smiles, a secret smile like he knows exactly what Yuuri is thinking.

"Shall we unpack?" asks Yuuri, more as a distraction than anything else. He _is_ getting hungry though, and as he unsaddles the horses and tethers them loosely to some nearby trees, he watches Conrad out of the corner of his eye. A loaf of soft brown bread, fresh from the oven the night before. A bag of cookies that Greta has lovingly baked herself, with only a little help from Wolfram. A few green apples, slightly tart just the way Yuuri likes them. Finally, a small bottle of sweet strawberry wine is placed beside the food. It is, Yuuri thinks, the perfect picnic for two.

"Are you attempting to use that wine to have your wicked way with me, Sir Knight?"

His husband raises an eyebrow. The bottle is scarcely large enough to make either of them anything more than lazily sleepy. "I take nothing more than is freely given, Your Majesty." Yuuri unconsciously takes half a step closer. Conrad never knows just how tempting those laughing brown eyes are to him, although Yuuri has never tried to mask his feelings. Actions speak louder than words, after all, and he has always been far better at doing rather than saying. Still, it would be a shame for the lunch to go to waste. He sinks to the ground and pulls Conrad down with him, onto the blanket that Conrad has already spread out for them.

They sit knee to knee, almost touching as they eat their food in companionable silence. Occasionally their fingers brush as the bottle of wine is passed back and forth between them – Yuuri has no need for fancy goblets such as they might use for guests or formal dinners, and the taste of Conrad's lips lingers on the rim of the bottle along with the strawberries.

When the food is gone they dangle their toes in the water, stirring up ripples until the sun starts to warm his back a little too much. It's really still too early in the season for swimming, but Yuuri stands and shrugs his jacket off anyway, and then makes a start on his shirt buttons. He doesn't look to see if Conrad is watching – he knows he is, although all is silent behind him.

"Aren't you coming?" asks Yuuri slyly.

He supposes he deserves it when Conrad picks him up so suddenly that Yuuri doesn't have time to object, rushing into the water with Yuuri in his arms like they're characters in some clichéd romance novel. There's a great splash as Conrad tips forward – maybe by accident, maybe not. Then they're both shivering, laughing, gasping at the cold, and Yuuri pulls him in closer for a kiss.

The half-empty wine bottles lies quite forgotten at the edge of the river.


	43. Chasing Perfection

Yuuri stood in front of the mirror and gave an inward sigh. It was the same reflection he always saw peering back at him – black hair, growing a little long in the fringe now. Dark eyes. Slender, he supposed, and regular height for someone of his heritage, although in contrast to many of those inhabiting Shin Makoku, he would no doubt be considered on the short side.

And no matter which way you looked at it, he was totally, one hundred percent normal.

While he had never let these sorts of things bother him before – had barely even given a thought to it, in fact – his appearance had been on his mind a lot more recently. This was probably only natural, considering his new… _relationship_ with Conrad. After all, Conrad was everything that anyone could possibly want in a lover, and Yuuri was… well, he was fairly sure he wasn't ugly, but there was no getting around the fact that he was quite plain compared to Wolfram's vivid good looks, or Gunter's pale exquisiteness, or even Gwendal's striking handsomeness (once you saw past the scowl). And of course, Conrad was more beautiful than all of them put together – to Yuuri, at least. So what was someone like Yuuri – completely average in every sense of the word – doing with someone like _that_?

Unbuttoning his shirt, Yuuri frowned and angled himself to the side, hoping that the image in front of him would somehow improve. It didn't – now the only thing he noticed was how entirely unremarkable his physique was beneath the fabric. He wished he were taller, or more muscular, or-

"Yuuri?"

He jumped, catching Conrad's reflection before whirling around to find the man himself staring at him, looking slightly bewildered.

"H-hey Conrad." Yuuri fumbled with his buttons. Curse it all, now he'd look like an idiot on top of everything else. "I was just… um, just…" A good excuse failed to come to mind, and he trailed off, casting his eyes downwards. His hands fell limply to his sides.

"Yuuri?" Conrad asked again, his voice more concerned now. "What's wrong?" Leave it to Conrad to work out something was bothering him – Yuuri needn't have said a word.

"Nothing."

"_Yuuri_." It was not a warning, nor even an admonishment, but his tone compelled Yuuri to look up anyway.

"Yes?"

Conrad closed the door behind him, and the sound of his boots on the stone floor of their bedchamber echoed as Conrad strode closer. It was hard for Yuuri to keep looking at him, when Conrad had that expression on his face. He would have glanced away had Conrad not cupped a hand softly to one side of his face, just below his ear.

"Never doubt yourself. Not about anything."

Yuuri's eyes widened. "How did you-"

"Did you not think I once felt the same?"

Yuuri spluttered, embarrassment over Conrad catching him like this warring with indignation that Conrad, _Conrad_ of all people could ever possibly think-

Conrad smiled at his expression. "I have thought the same about you. How could such a person ever believe he wasn't as perfect as it is possible to be?"

Yuuri could feel a blush starting at his neck and creeping all the way up to the roots of his hair. Only Conrad could get away with saying such things without sounding like a script from a poorly-written daytime drama. No doubt if he himself ever tried it he would simply come across as a fool, but with Conrad saying it… it was almost enough to make Yuuri actually believe it.

"Still not convinced?" Conrad gazed at him intently and Yuuri only felt his face heat up more – this time at the hint of something else in Conrad's face. "You know, I believe I have an excellent idea."

"What-" Spinning Yuuri around almost before he had the chance to realise it, Conrad held Yuuri so that he was once more facing the mirror, this time with Conrad standing just behind him.

"See? What could be more lovely than that?" Yuuri stared, not quite comprehending, as Conrad eased Yuuri's still-unbuttoned shirt from the younger man's shoulders as calmly as anything, and planted a heated kiss to Yuuri's bared neck. His arms snuck around Yuuri's waist, hands sliding up until they reached the top of Yuuri's chest.

Yuuri inhaled sharply, a shiver making its way down his back. "C-Conrad, no, you shouldn't-"

"Why shouldn't I? There's nothing wrong in admiring the man I love, is there?" The soldier did not wait for a reply – although in all fairness, Yuuri was not sure he was capable of giving one. Or not a coherent one, at least, since Conrad's tongue had now begun tracing the shape of Yuuri's jawline. His fingers, meanwhile, long and firm, had begun pressing and rubbing and-

Yuuri gave another gasp, not sure if it was borne out of Conrad's ministrations, or from the fact that he was actually watching it all happen right in front of him. It was like he was two different people – one, the person currently melting away in his lover's arms, and two, the young man watching himself growing more restless by the moment. God, he felt like some kind of voyeur, only was it possible to be caught spying on yourself? He felt vaguely repulsed by the thought, but at the same time it was impossible to tear his eyes away from the sight – Conrad now gently nipping his way down Yuuri's shoulder, hands still busy teasing at his chest, and Yuuri watching himself growing more and more aroused.

Oh yes – it was arousing. Yuuri knew the feeling for what it was, even though it was also different to anything he had felt before. His heart thumped, he couldn't not watch it… and Conrad knew it. His eyes, dark with desire, darted up to catch Yuuri's gaze in the mirror and hold it there for a long moment, silently teasing. _You're the one who's staring_, that wicked look told him.

Yuuri couldn't help it. He moaned, squirming, and Conrad seemed to reward him by biting down harder, this time right over Yuuri's pulse point.

"Ahh… n-no, Conrad, this isn't- ah!"

"I will stop anytime you tell me to."

Just the way Conrad's hands had slowed at those words was torture. Wordlessly, Yuuri shook his head, and almost stopped breathing altogether as he gazed on, transfixed at the reflection of Conrad's hands trailing down, down. He wanted to close his eyes – _should_ close his eyes at the sight. It was dirty, obscene, but somehow his eyes were glued to that mirror – at Conrad's practised fingers, and at himself, as they slipped Yuuri's pants undone and began to rhythmically stroke.

Yuuri's body jerked forward of its own accord, arching up against Conrad's touches. It felt good – no, better than good, he had never imagined-

The next sound that escaped his throat was the most embarrassing thing of the whole thing yet, but Conrad didn't seem to mind. Far from it, his hand began moving faster, and Yuuri felt a stab of both shock and excitement at the face now reflecting back at him; eyes dark and heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed a dark pink, mouth open to pant. Could that really be him tangled in Conrad's arms, now straining against Conrad's touch like that? Logic told him that they were alone, they were both adults, it was only natural… but it was like he was watching someone else altogether – some other breathless, wantonly writhing man he was peeping on. It was lewd, it was perverted, it was-

"-Beautiful", Conrad sighed, and his mouth right next to Yuuri's ear like that, his voice unabashedly fervent, was Yuuri's undoing. He made a sound that was almost a sob as his body gave one final, powerless shudder against Conrad's hand. Conrad gripped him hard as Yuuri's legs wobbled and folded beneath his own weight, bearing them both to the ground.

His back pillowed by Conrad's chest, Yuuri gazed up at him silently as the world slowly came back to him. He was sure he would have been mortified, if only he had the energy to feel anything but indecently sated. Well, no doubt that part would come later, when he had the willpower to remember just how quickly he had been turned on by the sight of himself being pleasured like that. Yuuri shuddered again at the memory and closed his eyes.

Over the still-rapid beating of his heart, he sensed Conrad bend over him, lips stopping scant inches from Yuuri's own. His breath washed over Yuuri like a balm.

"Never forget", he heard Conrad say softly, and his voice rang out clearly in the quiet. "You are perfect to me."


	44. Proposal

It's nothing so dramatic as a slap.

Yuuri is leaning against Conrad, eyes at half-mast as he tries not to let the warmth lull him to sleep. Outside the Shibuya's house it is snowing, which makes it feel all the more comfortable to be here like this, tucked up under the kotatsu while the television flickers quietly in front of them. It's dark because neither of them could be bothered getting up to turn on the light, and they are the only ones downstairs at such a late hour. Yuuri's body is relaxed, curving instinctively and unconsciously into Conrad's side, and the soldier is now very glad he allowed his king to talk him into this. 'Winter vacation', he had said, even though it's summer back in Shin Makoku. And Conrad had always picked Yuuri for a summer kind of person – although now that he has witnessed first-hand the charms of a kotatsu on a cold winter's night, he can certainly see how the season might have its charms.

It might even have been romantic, if they had been watching something other than an old black-and-white samurai film, complete with rather overdone acting and obviously fake sound effects during the fight scenes. Still, there's something incredibly Yuuri-like in all this, and Conrad doubts he will ever get a better chance.

So when the credits are rolling up the screen, Yuuri making a valiant effort to rouse himself enough to ask whether or not Conrad would like another drink, Conrad decides he might as well bring up the subject.

"About us…" he says, and Yuuri perks up a little at that, blinking at Conrad owlishly.

"Mm?"

He can't help but smile at the way Yuuri runs a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it down but only mussing it further. Conrad is probably doing this the wrong way around, but knowing Yuuri, that too seems only fitting.

"I was thinking. Would you like to get married?"

Yuuri straightens so quickly he probably nearly pulls a muscle.

"To who!?"

Conrad does his best to hide his laughter and fails miserably, and Yuuri self-consciously rubs a hand behind his neck, flushing. "Oh. Right. Sorry, I was still half-asleep."

"I know. I'm sorry." He can't help but tease Yuuri sometimes. Yuuri's reactions are just too delightful not to.

"No, it's okay. Anyway, I'd love to." With that, he leans back against his make-shift pillow, sighing contentedly.

No, it's not dramatic at all – no slapping, no beseeching on bended knee, no gazing dreamily into one another's eyes like star-struck lovers. Just this: the two of them sitting with the duvet pulled up to their waists; the dim light of the television flickering over Yuuri's face; the cheesy notes of the movie's ending ballad playing into the silence.

And somehow, Conrad would not have had it any other way.


	45. Into the Dark

**This is an AU piece, set just before the events of Lütenburg.**

* * *

It was not yet evening but the sky was already growing dark. The clouds had blocked the light all day – now they promised an early dusk. Conrad stood before him, his face as clean and formal as his uniform.

"I have to go soon."

Yuuri swallowed, attempting to mirror some of Conrad's self-control. He had not realised up until now how difficult that was. "I know", he replied. And then, into the silence that followed, "You don't have to do this. We could leave here, together. You don't need to…"

Conrad shook his head. "I can't stay, Yuuri."

The calm Yuuri was striving for was breaking, along with his voice. "You don't have to prove anything! Not to them."

"No. But to myself, I must." Conrad took a step towards Yuuri, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yuuri. If I don't come back-"

"Don't! Just don't, Conrad!" The tears he was trying so hard to hold in for Conrad's sake were threatening to fall, and Yuuri roughly scrubbed a hand over his eyes.

Conrad's voice was low and quiet, his expression distant. A stranger. "I can promise you nothing." It sounded like what Conrad had told him months ago, when Yuuri had finally worked up the courage to make his feelings known. _I have nothing to offer you_, Conrad had told him then. Like he thought of himself as somehow lacking in worth. Like he was and would never be good enough for Yuuri – for anybody.

For a few moments, Yuuri struggled with his emotions, knowing they would just make things worse yet not able to fully keep them in check. Conrad was wordless, a remote figure who Yuuri knew could not speak his mind, lest his rage and hurt consume him.

For that, and for everything else about Conrad, Yuuri loved him.

"Yuuri. It's time." He made to turn and walk away.

"Wait!" On the spur of the moment, Yuuri fumbled with the clasps of his necklace, the pendent sparkling brightly even now. Conrad looked as though he might protest but then bowed his head, allowing it to be fastened about his neck. Yuuri brought his palm to rest against Conrad's cheek, lifting his lover's head back up so that he could look him in the eye. "Bring this back to me", he whispered fiercely. "And then, marry me."

"Yuuri-"

-"Say it."

Conrad stood straight and tall – a man about to march off to his fate. "I will marry you, Yuuri." And his kiss said everything his voice could not: _I love you_. _I'm sorry_. _Goodbye_. Yuuri could only close his eyes against the pain.

When he opened them again Conrad was gone. Only then did he begin openly to weep.

He wept for Conrad, and for all the young men who would lay down their lives for a country who seemed to care nothing for them, and for a future he was no longer sure would come.


	46. The Change

**A late Christmas present for the other ConYuu fans out there. A bit of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

"You don't have to do that, Yuuri", said Conrad, and his voice held a rare note of shock.

"I want to", replied Yuuri, determined. "I've thought about this a lot, and I've already made up my mind."

"Yuuri… think about what this will mean. _Do_ you know what this will mean?"

"I know what it means to me. To us. I'd like to believe I'm not a selfish man, Conrad, but in this, that's what matters most."

"… I can't. I can't accept this, Yuuri. It's too much. I don't deserve… I don't need any more than I have been given." His face softened. "You've already given me so much."

Yuuri was silent for a long moment, seemingly captivated by the sun streaming through the window. Outside, life about the castle went on as it always did. A maid hung the washing. Somewhere a groom was whistling. Conrad waited.

"How long have we been together, Conrad?"

He did not need to pause to think about it. "In two weeks it will have been five years." Five years of more happiness than he had could ever have wished for.

His husband turned to face him. "Consider it an anniversary gift if you must. But know that I intend to do this either way."

"Your family-"

"I've discussed it with them. This is my home now, Conrad – right where you are. Don't you know that?"

There was a real undercurrent of uncertainty in the question. The fact that Yuuri even had to ask made Conrad want to crush Yuuri to him and never let go, propriety be damned.

He had crossed the room before he realised it, his hands reaching to pull Yuuri into a rough embrace, lest he have to look Yuuri in the eyes an instant longer and break; a thousand tiny shards all crying out the same thing.

"Take it", he said huskily against Yuuri's hair. "Take all of me, Yuuri, every last piece if you want it. Only promise me you won't give anything back."

If Conrad was struggling not to weep, Yuuri affected not to notice.

"I swear it."

It was done two weeks later, a private ceremony held in front of Shinou's temple, witnessed only by the royal advisors and the oracle herself, and signed by the king in dark ink:

Weller Yuuri.


	47. Homecoming II

**A short drabble for Lady of the Shards who requested Yuuri taking Conrad to a field of flowers. As you can see, I took the most direct route. ;)**

* * *

Conrad comes back from his trip with Josak disheveled and weary, road dust still on his clothes and faint circles under his eyes. His gaze is searching Yuuri's out before he has even had a chance to wash the dirt from his face, but his smile as he finally catches Yuuri's answering stare is bright enough to be almost blinding.

Yuuri forces himself into stillness, waiting until Conrad has reported in and had a bath before slipping quietly into his husband's arms. "Do you want to sleep?"

"Not until later. I should wait for dark at least."

"Good." The bedchamber is private enough but too central for Yuuri to feel properly alone, and so he unhesitatingly leads Conrad out the door.

There is a field Yuuri discovered the other day. It is probably not a secret place, but is far enough away from the castle that nobody should have any business being there on a late afternoon.

Nobody but Yuuri and Conrad. They are greeted only by dusky orange wildflowers and a golden silence into which they can whisper their hearts.

They make love under an open sky, petals in their hair and honest earth beneath their bodies, tangled limbs already warmed by the sun.


	48. The Watcher

It is an embarrassing habit, but recently, Yuuri cannot help but watch Conrad when he thinks the soldier isn't looking.

It isn't because anything has changed in their relationship – or lack thereof. Conrad is exactly the same person he's always been. Strong. Kind-hearted. Unavailable.

Yuuri knows this last point with a hopeless certainty, because he is exactly the type of person Conrad wouldn't want in a… lover (and he blushes at the mere thought of the word). The older man has never been anything but caring towards him, of course, but Yuuri gets the feeling that this has more to do with a sense of obligation on Conrad's part than anything else. Yuuri is his king, and Conrad never lets him forget it.

Still, Yuuri watches Conrad with a kind of fixed obsession. He peers at him from window of his office when Conrad is training in the courtyard, all measured voice and hard muscle as he spars with the other men. He gazes covertly at Conrad when he is seated at the long dinner table, straight-backed and not a hair out of place. He peeks out of the corner of his eye when Conrad keeps him company in the evenings, quietly and efficiently going about his own duties as Yuuri finishes up errant paperwork. Once, Yuuri accidentally stumbles across Conrad in the bath chambers, and gapes at him for nearly a full minute – gloriously, unselfconsciously naked – before jerking himself away from the sight. Thankfully Conrad doesn't appear to have noticed, but Yuuri isn't able to look Conrad properly in the eye for nearly a whole week after that.

Yuuri is sure that, for all his compulsive watching, Conrad is none the wiser. He is always careful not to be spotted, and Conrad's calm demeanour is as consistent as the rising sun. Yuuri cannot really complain – it's a part of his charm, after all.

It therefore comes as a surprise when, after a good several months of engaging in this most un-kinglike behaviour, Conrad corners him in the stables one morning and pushes him unceremoniously against the wall, before proceeding to kiss him like there's no tomorrow.

There's no sign of the composed, self-collected man Yuuri thinks he knows when Conrad eventually, reluctantly, breaks away.

They stare wordlessly at one another for a long moment before Yuuri abruptly tears his eyes away, finding his voice at last. "What… are you doing?" he says stupidly, and his face feels hot enough that he fears he might spontaneously combust where he stands.

Conrad merely leans forward again, and his voice sounds hoarse in Yuuri's ear, making him shiver.

"Haven't you noticed?" he asks. His breathing is as ragged as Yuuri's, strands of chestnut hair falling dishevelled over his eyes.

Yuuri shakes his head, confused, and Conrad continues to look at him as though kissing is not nearly enough. Long fingers tilt his chin up so that he is looking at Conrad's face once more.

"I've been watching you."


	49. With Eyes to See II

**For Sea Queen, who prompted me with 'kitchen.' I'm not sure if this turned out quite the way I had originally planned, but hopefully it reads okay.**

* * *

"You really didn't have to help out with this, you know!" Shibuya Miko flitted energetically about the kitchen – stacking the dirty bowls and plates, running the hot water, wrapping up the leftovers and storing them neatly in the refrigerator – seemingly all at once, beaming at him all the while. Her smile, girlishly charming, would not have looked out of place on a schoolgirl, although the hands that briskly dealt with the chores were as strong and capable as any woman's he had known.

"Please, I insist. It's the least I could do after that delicious curry." Conrad returned her easy expression. She reminded him of a butterfly sometimes, or a hummingbird. There was also something of his own mother in her; there was no doubt in his mind that she had earned the nickname Yuuri had once told him about – or that she was even now just as proficient with a fencing sword.

They moved around each other in companionable silence for a few moments, the gentle scraping of dishes and squeaking of the dishtowel filling up the quiet.

"So", Miko eventually said, her voice light. "How is my Yuu-chan doing?"

"Very well", Conrad replied, not missing the gleam in her eyes and wondering vaguely what it meant. "He is a strong leader – kind but determined. Many admire him."

Miko gave a dreamy sigh. "Of course, I always knew Yuu-chan would be wonderful. A mother can tell these things."

Conrad inclined his head. "It is easy to see where Yuuri gets his wisdom from", he said gallantly, and Miko giggled, delighted.

"Such flattery!"

Conrad could not help but laugh back in response, although he had been speaking honestly – it was not difficult to tell who Yuuri tended to take after. "Yuuri is still growing, but he never gives anything other than his best", he continued. "He would not say so himself, but he is loved by all of Shin Makoku."

"And you?"

Aha. Conrad didn't look up from the spoon he was currently drying off, but he was aware that Miko was looking at him, probably with that same smile on her face. For all her innocently cheerful personality, Miko was not blind.

"Naturally, I feel the same way", he said, not missing a beat.

"That's good. Then I have no reason to worry, do I?" Miko hummed to herself, stepping gracefully around him to get to the cupboard.

There was another moment of silence before Miko commented almost as though to herself, "You know, at first I thought Yuu-chan and Wol-chan… but then, even a mother can be wrong sometimes."

"Oh?"

"But then over the last little while… well, all he could talk about was you. I never once heard him talk about Wol-chan that way, and they're engaged!"

Conrad's mouth turned up slightly at the corners before he could stop it. Yuuri hadn't told her then. Not so surprising, perhaps. Still, he saw no reason to keep the knowledge from her.

"Yuuri broke off the engagement several months ago."

"Really? I had no idea!" Despite her words, Miko didn't sound particularly shocked. "Poor Wol-chan…"

"I have a feeling it was by mutual agreement", Conrad added quickly, and Miko nodded.

"Well, just so long as they're still on good terms. Such a lovely young man – and so pretty! I would hate for a silly misunderstanding to get in the way of their friendship. And my Yuu-chan can be quite stubborn sometimes – I wonder who he takes after?"

Conrad held back a grin as Miko continued, seemingly oblivious. "He needs someone to be there for him, make sure he doesn't act too recklessly… he'll get into trouble otherwise." Humming another few snatches of her earlier tune, she turned to Conrad, wiping off her hands on her apron. "Want to swap? I know where these dishes go."

"Certainly."

"I'm home!" The door opened and closed in the next room, and Yuuri padded into the kitchen a few seconds later. "I got the shopping you wanted. Mom! You aren't making Conrad do the dishes, are you?" His gaze lingered on Conrad, the soldier's shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and soap suds clinging to his forearms.

"Of course not, dear, Conrad offered. And call me Mama, Yuu-chan", Miko chided absentmindedly, glancing almost slyly at the pair of them. Conrad kept his mouth shut.

"What were you guys talking about?" asked Yuuri suspiciously into the sudden quiet, but by then Miko had wiped any trace of the expression from her face and was reaching to take the bags from him.

"Nothing, dear. Now be off, the both of you. I'll finish up in here, so why don't you take Conrad into the lounge. Your papa wants to watch the baseball match with him."

Yuuri grumbled something incomprehensible and practically dragged Conrad from the kitchen – but not before Miko had quickly turned back towards Conrad and given him what looked very much like a wink.


	50. The Toss

**Happy 50****th**** chapter, everyone! This one's for fellow ConYuu author Aozoran, whose own fics fill me with happiness. Her prompt for this particular drabble… well, I don't want to spoil the story, so please read it for yourselves. Enjoy!**

* * *

The baseball rolled, bouncing a few times along the grass to land somewhere behind a row of bushes and out of sight.

Yuuri's eyes followed it until it disappeared before he turned to face the curly-headed girl with a smile. "Great toss, Greta! Your arm's really improving."

Any lingering worries Yuuri might have had when Greta had first asked him to practice with her – not because he doubted her strength but because he was instinctively protective, having witnessed more than one child get hit square in the face by an over-enthusiastic throw – had vanished as soon as they had begun to play together. Greta's smile was infectious and there was nothing more perfect, he thought, than being able to breathe in the scent of the grass and feel the warmth of the sun on his back as he spent time with his adopted daughter.

Sweating lightly in the heat, he jogged over in the direction the ball had gone, ducking down to hands and knees when he saw a flash of white beneath a tangle of branches. Reaching in, he was about to grasp the ball when another spot of colour further on caught his gaze and held it. It blended in to the natural greens and browns of the surroundings, but Yuuri would have known that particular shade anywhere.

"Conrad! Sorry, I-" Yuuri broke off abruptly when he saw that the man in question was on his back, eyes closed and face tilted up towards the sun. He breathed deeply, in and out, unmoving but for a few errant strands of hair lifting up from his forehead with the breeze.

"Conrad..." He didn't shift when Yuuri only half-consciously whispered the name.

Yuuri had never glimpsed him sleeping before – for some reason, coming across the sight seemed even more intimate than bathing with him naked. Conrad looked... not vulnerable exactly, but unguarded. His expression was wiped clean of any emotion, although Yuuri thought there was an air of contentment about him, like lying outside and half-in, half-out of the late afternoon sun like this was a gift. His lips... Yuuri's eyes zeroed in sharply. _His lips._ They were relaxed like the rest of him, and curved ever so slightly upwards at the corners. They looked soft and full and inviting. They made Yuuri's fingers twitch and his heart race unaccountably faster.

"Conrad?"

He still didn't stir, but Yuuri had to check, had to be sure, because the next thing he knew he was crouching over Conrad and wiping his damp hands on his thighs and trying very, very hard to remember how to breath.

The world narrowed down, glass-like, to a motionless point. Cicadas echoing off the trees. The gently wavering ocean of green holding the soldier in its embrace. Those lips – now parting just a little as Conrad's chest rose and fell more quietly than Yuuri had ever dared imagine.

A kiss. No more than a brushing of mouths, so slight that Yuuri briefly wondered if he was asleep too and dreaming. The memory of a taste, something sweet but earthy like-

-"Yuuri!"

The silence was suddenly broken, the dream shattered, and he jerked away, barely holding in a yelp of surprise. Face burning, heart hammering painfully, Yuuri cast a final, wide-eyed glimpse at him, reassuring himself that Conrad still lay motionless before backing hastily, guiltily away.

He turned to run just as Greta called him again. "Coming!" He hoped his voice didn't sound as shaky to his daughter as it did to his own ears – he could have sworn he had nearly had a heart attack. God, if Conrad had woken up... forget heart attacks, he would have died of embarrassment.

* * *

"Sorry Greta, it took me a while to find the ball…"

Conrad waited for Yuuri's voice to grow distant again, his footfalls fading away until all was quiet once more.

Only then did he open his eyes and smile.


	51. Loss II

"Yuuri?"

The king did not respond – Conrad had not really expected him to – and so the soldier did not bother to ask for permission before walking into the chamber. The room had been stripped of its furniture now, the floor swept bare, although Yuuri lay where the bed had once been, nothing but cold stone to cradle his body.

Conrad knelt quietly beside him. "Yuuri? You'll get sick if you keep doing this."

Nothing. Yuuri was facing away from him so Conrad could not see his face, but he didn't need to in order to know what was there. Eyes reddened from long hours of weeping, a face so drawn and pale it could have belonged to another man.

Softly, he placed a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "You cannot grieve forever."

Not a sound, although he felt Yuuri's back tense at his touch. Still, he made no move to shrug Conrad off – gave no sign that he was listening at all.

At a loss, Conrad bowed his head. "Please", he pleaded, his voice low. "Don't make me watch this anymore." He could feel the bones beneath his hand, sharp and brittle as broken glass. Swallowing hard, he continued. "You're stronger than this. I know it's hard-"

"_You don't know anything!_" Yuuri's voice trembled with rage, the sudden scream echoing crazily off the walls as he jerked himself upwards. "You don't know...!" He finally met Conrad's eyes then, and Conrad saw the pain there, and the sorrow that went far deeper than his anger ever could, threatening to overwhelm him. Conrad could not allow that.

And so he gazed straight into Yuuri's face, and made no attempt to hide his own anguish. Old scars had grown light enough to bear but would never heal entirely. Fresh wounds at having witnessed Yuuri slipping away from Conrad, from everything around himself, caused his suffering to show naked in his expression. Still, he would not let himself look away.

"I know", he said simply.

And watched Yuuri finally crumple, sadness and pain and sheer relief mingling together as Yuuri allowed himself to be gathered close and held for the first time since her death. He pulled Yuuri gently from the ground, hugging his freezing body tightly to his own, and listened to his howls of grief in silence.

"It will pass", he whispered fiercely, once the cries had finally faded. Yuuri was a limp and unresisting form in his arms – asleep, or unconscious, or merely exhausted beyond stirring. "I swear to you, no matter how long it takes, I will see you smile again one day."

Yuuri mumbled something against the fabric of Conrad's uniform, his words slurring together so that only one was clear enough to be heard. "Greta."

He carried Yuuri from the chamber, and did not look back.


	52. Gift

**This one is for Lady of the Shards, who prompted me with 'belonging.'**

* * *

There comes a time when it becomes nearly impossible to slip voluntarily between the worlds.

Yuuri has grown into a fine man – the years have done nothing but perfect the qualities Conrad had seen in him from the very beginning. Courage. Compassion. Strength of will. His visits to his family on earth grow more and more sporadic, until he spends the majority of his time in Shin Makoku and disappears through the temple fountain only rarely.

Still, this does not mean he treats his choice lightly. For a choice it has become, and the expression on the Great Sage's face is uncharacteristically serious as he tells Yuuri, "This time it really will be for good."

Yuuri prepares to leave for one last trip. Risky as it is to do so when the channel between earth and Shin Makoku has grown so narrow, Yuuri must bid a proper farewell to his mother, his father, his brother. "I can't leave without telling them", he insists, and Murata does not try to stop him, although he warns Yuuri he doesn't know how difficult it might be to get back. If Yuuri does not hurry, the passage may close forever.

So after he is gone, vanishing into the water until even the bubbles where he has jumped have disappeared, Conrad heads back into the castle and tries not to dwell on what could happen – only what Yuuri promised him. As long as Conrad lives, he will never share that conversation with another soul.

A day goes by. A week. A month. There is no way of knowing how much time is passing on the other side, but in Shin Makoku the season turns, and life goes on. And still Conrad keeps his faith, silently repeating the final words Yuuri has gifted him with.

Until one day, as unexpected as always, Yuuri lands with an undignified splash, thoroughly surprising the temple priestesses and generally looking like a water-sodden, self-conscious king. Conrad, who takes in every detail of Yuuri's dripping hair and bashful grin, has never felt more grateful in his life – or more loved.

The relief must show on his face, because in the cheerful storm of activity that surrounds Yuuri – the chaotic hubbub of voices that greet him, talking over one another and plying him with more towels than he could possibly need – he turns his mouth to Conrad's ear and whispers in a voice that is meant for him and him alone:

"I told you before I left, didn't I? I belong with you."


	53. Afterglow

**Just something short and sweet to while away the time. As always, reviews are love and prompts for further chapters are welcome. Enjoy.**

* * *

The wind battered at the windows, howling outside amid a harsh flurry of snow. Inside the bedchamber, dimly lit by the rosy glow of candles, Yuuri lay sprawled up against Conrad, trailing lazy fingers through the soldier's hair.

"You should get the day off more often", he yawned, shifting so that his body could press more closely to Conrad's.

"I should, if it means spending the entire afternoon in bed", Conrad agreed. "Although I should point out it isn't just me off duty. The snow is too heavy to chance work outdoors."

"I like winter", Yuuri announced, and a satisfied smile curled at his lips.

"That is interesting, since I had thought I heard a certain someone complaining that winter lasted too long in Shin Makoku. Just the other day, in fact. I must be misremembering, however."

"Or perhaps you mistook that person for somebody else", Yuuri suggested.

Conrad ran a hand down Yuuri's torso, tracing the line of muscle there made lean and hard by years on horseback. He delighted in the way Yuuri squirmed in response, unsuccessfully trying to both escape the tickling sensation yet move nearer to Conrad and his body heat at the same time. They tussled for a brief moment, limbs tangling together and sheets twisting until Yuuri somehow ended up on his back, Conrad crouched above him.

He stroked the inside of Yuuri's wrists, brown eyes taking in every inch of Yuuri's naked form. "Husband, I could never mistake you for anybody else."

"Fine", Yuuri huffed. "But just for the record, I meant to do that."

"I don't doubt it", Conrad replied, and bent to claim his prize.


	54. The Prize

**For Lady of the Shards. My prompt was, '****There is a contest. Yuuri is the prize.'**

* * *

"All I'm saying is that it seems old-fashioned", Yuuri protested. "It's like I'm some princess being duelled over in a fairytale. Shouldn't _I_ have some say in it?"

"It's not a duel", Wolfram humphed. "We're not fighting each other – it's a race."

"With me as the prize", Yuuri whined.

"Heika, I assure you this is a rite which has passed down for centuries", said Gunter. His voice was calm but his amethyst eyes were glittering in a way that made Yuuri suspect he was about to see blood spurting out of the man's nose at any moment.

"It's nothing more than an elaborate game of hide-and-seek", Gwendal interjected. "There is no need for uneasiness, Heika – the prize is merely a ritual. Nobody takes this childish farce seriously nowadays in any case", he grumbled to himself as an afterthought.

"Speak for yourself!" Josak grinned cheerfully. "I for one am in this to win it."

"He's mine – keep your hands off him!" Wolfram hissed.

"Will someone please tell me _why_ me hands are tied up again?"

"It symbolises the submission and eventual freedom of our ruler, of course", Gunter sighed dramatically. "His wrists are bound to show he serves the people and not his own needs first. When a representative of the people finds him, he has fulfilled his duty and his bonds are cut."

"Is that before or after whoever it is claims their 'prize'"?

"Traditionally that has been up to the Maou. In times gone by many have preferred to keep their bonds intact until... ahem. Well, until later." Yuuri didn't miss the way Gunter's eyes flickered to the right, where Cheri-sama was perched on a chair and looking entirely too excitedly gleeful for Yuuri's liking.

"Like I said, old-fashioned", Yuuri said, rubbing his wrists together uncomfortably and edging closer to the only man who currently hadn't weighed in. "And leather bonds no less. Conrad, can't you talk them out of this?"

"I wish I could, Heika, but what Gunter says is true – this is a well-known and very respected custom, and I fear the crowds have already grown too excited to call it off now without causing a small riot."

"A ri- wait, _what?_ You didn't tell me the whole town was involved!"

"A spectator event, of course", Gunter reassured him. "Nobody would suggest our beloved Heika compromise his honour – or safety – by allowing just any resident of the city to participate. Naturally, this event is open to members of the gentry only", he finished primly. "Whoever claims the prize will simply have the townspeople bear witness."

"You'll have five minutes from the start, which should be any moment now", interjected Josak, blue eyes dancing. "Time to think of a hiding place, kiddo... from the looks of things, you'd better make it a good one!"

Right on cue a large bang cut the air, making Yuuri jump.

"That's Anissina's signal", Gunter said, and promptly began searching for his handkerchief to dab under his nose. From somehow down the hill, Yuuri fancied he could hear an excited crowd begin to roar. He gulped.

"Run, Yuuri", Conrad advised.

The king did not need telling twice. He left the courtyard at a dead sprint.

* * *

The crowd cheered wildly. Some waved banners or flags as though at a festival, while others were sporting what Yuuri thought bore a striking resemblance to binoculars. The air was a heady mixture of summer heat, sweet candies, and rich dark wine - more than a few people already looked slightly worse for the wear.

"Our king has been found!" recited a guard. "Let his bonds be cut if he so wishes, and the representative of the people step forward!"

The throng grew suddenly quiet and a tense moment passed before, into the silence, a man moved to step in front of Yuuri. Seeing this, the multitude of people standing below the make-shift stage immediately erupted into cries and whistles that easily eclipsed their previous volume. Yuuri couldn't be certain, but he was reasonably sure that he caught a glimpse of a lot of coins exchanging hands.

"Does the Maou wish to be freed of his bonds?" yelled the guard, struggling to make himself heard over the din.

"Uh..."

It was a lost cause – the bellowing which followed was overwhelmingly a negative, and Yuuri knew his answer would be lost in the cacophony anyway. Helplessly, he shrugged, and the guard turned to face the audience again.

"Let the representative claim his prize!" he called.

Yuuri hadn't known it was even possible for people to make this much noise. In all the fuss, a great bell clanging and everyone practically screaming their approval it was hard to think, let alone speak privately to the man now standing quietly beside him. But perhaps that was just as well. He had no idea what to say, and as his eyes involuntarily zeroed in on his captor's mouth, he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment – as well as something more.

Conrad looked just as composed as always, although Yuuri wondered if his smile didn't seem a touch wider than usual. "Ready, Yuuri?" he asked.

"I..." He couldn't have said what it was that made his heart begin to beat ten times faster. It was hardly a romantic moment, with hundreds of eyes upon the two of them. His skin was still chafing from the leather wrapped firmly about his wrists and Gunter was weeping inconsolably from somewhere behind him and he had never felt more exposed in his life, and yet... and yet...

Yuuri could not help himself – his eyes slipped closed, body leaning instinctively forward and face tilting towards the sun, as Conrad bent down to capture Yuuri's lips with his own.

It was, thought Yuuri – some time later when he could think back on that moment without blushing all the way down to his toes – one of the best contests he had ever been involved in.

Little did anyone else know he considered the winner to be himself.


	55. Breaking Point III

**For cyanscry, who requested a story involving overprotective!Conrad. Although most drabbles in this fic are completely unrelated to each other, this one might be considered an addendum of sorts to chapter 52, in which the magical border between Earth and Shin Makoku is closing for good.**

* * *

Conrad was not the kind of man given to losing his temper easily. Soldier he might be, but quick to anger he was not – for all he could often be distant in demeanour, it took much to truly enrage him. On those rare occasions when something broke that quiet composure, his anger had none of Wolfam's fire nor even Gwendal's sharply forbidding displeasure. More accurate to say it was as precisely controlled and cold as ice.

Neither did Conrad consider himself to be overprotective. Those things he held dear he did so fiercely, but never too closely. He knew from past experience what it felt like to be suffocated by those whom you loved; no matter whether they did so out of adoration or out of concern, it was not in Conrad's nature to be possessive. He loved Yuuri with every fibre of his being but would never stifle him – it had been clear to Conrad from day one that this, above all, was the reason why any relationship beyond that of fast friendship between Wolfram and Yuuri would never come to fruition.

And so when Yuuri came back from the other world with an almighty splash, the bruises adorning face and wrists plain for all the world to see, Conrad surprised himself with the strength of his fury.

His teeth clenched, hands curling into fists and arms trembling with the need to unleash his anger. Only Yuuri held him back from the brink of exploding with it – Yuuri, looking almost scared of Conrad but placing a hand on his shoulder anyway, begging him to listen.

"Conrad, please don't-"

"Who has done this?" In contrast with the body that betrayed his depth of feeling, Conrad's voice was eerily detached.

"It doesn't matter now, it's nothing to-"

"_Who?_"

Yuuri shivered. "Nobody."

Conrad stared, and Yuuri forced himself not to take a step back at the look in Conrad's eyes. He thought he had known his subject, his closest confidant, his lover, better than anyone. Clearly he did not know as much as he thought he had. It had not occurred to him before this that anyone – least of all Conrad, _his_ Conrad – could be capable of possessing so much anger that the very sun seemed to retreat from it.

"I…"

Conrad reached for Yuuri's hands, turning them over in his larger ones and running them over the bruises which blossomed there. They were fresh, and stood luridly out on Yuuri's skin like a brand. His touch was as gentle as ever, but Yuuri had to remind himself not to flinch away from it.

"I will kill the one responsible for this", said Conrad, in a voice so unnervingly calm that Yuuri believed every word.

"You can't", he replied quickly. "The door between the worlds has shut, and there's no opening it again now. You know this."

Shaking fingers abandoned his wrists and shifted up to trace the purple flowering beneath Yuuri's eye. "They will pay in blood for it." It was as though Conrad had not even heard him.

"Conrad-"

"I will have an answer, Yuuri, whether you would give it willingly or no. _Who_. _Did this_."

"Conrad! This isn't you, stop it!"

"WHO!?"

For a moment there was only stillness – a hush so complete that it seemed not even the wind dared move. It took all Yuuri's will not to back away from his protector in that moment. In all his time in Shin Makoku, not in his wildest dreams had he imagined he would be afraid of the person standing before him.

When Yuuri's answer came, shattering the quiet, it was so low that Conrad almost failed to hear it. "… Oniichan. It was Oniichan who hit me."

"Shouri."

"Yes." Yuuri continued to face Conrad, boldly standing his ground.

"And these?"

Yuuri glanced back at his wrists. The bruises ran nearly the entire way around them, dark and mottled. "He tried to keep me from leaving. When he saw he wouldn't be able to convince me, he grabbed them to stop me from jumping into the water. Hard, and he wouldn't let go. So we fought. I won. That's all."

"_All_."

Yuuri's heart was beating fast as he reached to clasp Conrad's hands in his own this time. "Yes. It's over now. I'll never see him again."

The pain in his voice and the undisguised tremble there sparked something else in Conrad, and Yuuri saw a shift in his expression. "Yuuri, I…"

"Enough, Conrad. _Enough_. You're frightening me."

Conrad's reaction was instantaneous. "I would never hurt you. Not…"

"Not on purpose", Yuuri finished for him, looking Conrad straight in the eye. "But this is not the man I trust with my life. Come back, Conrad. Come back to me now, please."

"Oh, Yuuri…" Conrad's voice was a sigh now, a whisper, and as though Yuuri had pulled a plug he saw the tension begin to drain from his lover's body, shoulders relaxing and eyes clearing of the rage that had been swimming there. The sight made Yuuri want to cry in relief, and he sagged, suddenly tired beyond words.

"I'm sorry." Conrad allowed Yuuri to pull him close, and bent down so that Yuuri could kiss him, dragging his lips softly over Conrad's. "Yuuri, I'm so sorry."

"It's over now", Yuuri repeated, and Conrad knew he was no longer talking about his brother.

"Yes", Conrad agreed hollowly. All he wanted now was Yuuri's touch – Yuuri's skin pressed against his own, Yuuri's lips on his again, filling up the void his fury had carved out before disappearing at that flash of naked fear upon Yuuri's face.

"Come. I want to lie down beside you."

He did not deserve this. He did not deserve any of it. As Conrad let Yuuri lead him back into the cool dimness of the castle, he silently vowed one thing.

He would die before giving cause to make Yuuri fear him again.


	56. Spill

**For KitElizaKing, who prompted me with 'lemonade on a hot summer's day.' After struggling to write something that satisfied me which literally involved lemonade, I decided to go with something a bit more metaphorical. **

* * *

It's one of those days where the sun is so overpowering it practically melts on your skin. Yuuri's shirt clings to his back and his hair sticks to his forehead in damp black strands. Conrad's wandering hands are _not_ helping matters.

It makes Yuuri think about lemonade.

Okay, he doesn't know where _that_ analogy popped up from. His helpless, overheated body perhaps, so hot that it dredges up even imaginary things in an attempt to cool itself. Still, now that it's there the idea refuses to leave, so Yuuri examines it for a moment, turning it over curiously in his mind.

And now that he thinks about it, maybe it's not such a ridiculous comparison after all. Conrad's searching fingers are like thousands of tiny droplets, each one fizzing and popping over his flesh and making him shiver despite the staggering heat. When Conrad presses his lips to his ears, his neck, his navel (and down, down, down…) it's as though a silver current is flashing through his bloodstream. When Conrad laughs gently against his hip just like _that_ (and Yuuri can't help but whimper his delight, such torture), it's not dissimilar to the jolt – the almost painful but perfectly cool shock of that first swallow – which scorches and freezes and numbs and shocks, right before it dissipates on your tongue like cotton candy. So sweet it hurts.

"A-ahh! N-no, Conrad, it- oh!"

He is burning, trying to twist away and towards the contact at the same time, and Conrad is lapping at him like the sticky, syrupy sweetness is leaking from Yuuri's pores. His very skin seethes with it, and Conrad nips and tastes and swallows and somehow still comes back looking for more. In his arms, Yuuri is an arching, quivering, groaning mess.

Now he can feel himself beginning to give up and spill over completely, never mind the heat, and Conrad knows it. When the soldier starts sighing Yuuri's name right next to his ear, _YuuriYuuriYuuri_, his fingers tangling in the younger man's hair and their sweat mingling together between them, Yuuri knows he's done for. His limbs give a final, desperate shudder before the bubbles spiral up and over, and then he is gasping and melting away, and Conrad with him.

Like lemonade on a hot summer's day, Yuuri is spent but already craving seconds.


	57. Honeymoon

Conrad lay near the fire, Yuuri curled up in front of him, his back pressed into Conrad's stomach. Yuuri's hair had grown just long enough for him to tie it back into a thin ponytail, although currently it curled loosely against his neck – a dark mass that Conrad delighted in trailing his hand through. Outside the window, it seemed dark and still enough that the earth itself could have been sleeping.

"I wish we could stay like this", Yuuri mused. His eyes were half-lidded as they watched the flames dancing in the hearth. "It feels like we're so far away from everything, and yet we haven't even left the city boundaries. The castle's always so busy that it's hard to feel like we're alone, even when it's just us in the room."

"It's very rarely completely quiet", Conrad acknowledged. "This won't be the only time we spent by ourselves though – in fact, custom dictates the Maou and his husband take leave from the castle once a year."

"Really?" Yuuri opened his eyes a little at this. "How come?"

"I suspect the tradition started because it was felt it was the best way to uphold good relations between the Maou and his chosen partner. Arranged marriages, particularly for monarchs, are less common now, but the tradition still stands."

"I can see why", Yuuri said, a slow smile turning his mouth up at the corners. "A whole week off work, and with nobody to barge in and ruin the mood."

"Mother certainly encouraged it. Tried to have the time extended to two weeks, in fact."

"I bet she did." The room had grown dim, and they had not bothered to light the candelabras. The fire cast flickering shadows over Yuuri's body as he turned to kiss Conrad, sighing as they broke away. "In a way it feels like we've been here for ages, but I know I don't want to go back tomorrow."

"I know." Conrad's fingers alighted on Yuuri's shoulder, running softly down his arm and then finding the curvature of his hip. "But I will never forget this, no matter how many years pass."

"I should think not", said Yuuri, nudging him playfully. "It's not just any day you get to run off into a house in the woods with your lover and laze around naked all day. Is it?" His gaze was openly inviting as he regarded the soldier, making no effort to hide his attention, and Conrad loved this side of him – teasing and unselfconscious and every inch of him Conrad's, and Conrad's alone.

"Yuuri. Would you by any chance be attempting to seduce me back into bed?"

"Whatever gave you… mm, that idea?" Yuuri squirmed a little as Conrad's hand found a different part of him to stroke, a low gasp belying his words.

"Just a hunch", Conrad replied, and Yuuri huffed a laugh against his chest, their thighs brushing together with the motion.

"All I meant was that we don't have a lot of time left to ourselves. Why spend it talking?"

"Why indeed?" said Conrad, and took great pleasure in proceeding to drag a very willing Maou back into the bedroom – where there were remarkably few more coherent words exchanged for the rest of the night.


	58. Left Unsaid II

**For Shion Shi-chii, who requested something involving Conrad worrying over Yuuri. While I was tempted to go with something more dramatic and angsty, this is where my inspiration led me today. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

"You", says Conrad, kneeling to pull off Yuuri's shoes when the boy collapses in a heap on the bed with a relieved sigh, "work too hard." He is striving for a light tone, but Yuuri knows him well enough to see the distress hidden beneath the surface of that easy smile.

Exhaustion is written plainly in every bone of Yuuri's body, so the younger man for once doesn't object to being slightly fussed over. The circles under his eyes are almost as dark as the ink stains spattered over the tips of his fingers, and once Conrad has finished making Yuuri more comfortable as unobtrusively as he knows how, he stands and leans over to plant kisses on them. They are soft and fleeting, butterfly kisses that don't ask for anything in return, but Yuuri's mouth quirks up at the corners, and this time his sigh is appreciative rather than weary. His arms come up to twine about Conrad's shoulders, drawing him in.

"My Conrad. You are too good for me." Drowsiness still laces his words, but his eyes, when they open, are fixated on Conrad with what cannot be mistaken for anything other than desire.

"Never that. You are my husband and my king, and you do not know what you do to me."

Yuuri chuckles lazily, running a hand through chocolate-brown strands of hair, delighting in the way it tickles his skin. "I know well enough." His hands move down to fiddle with the buttons on Conrad's shirt. "Speaking of which, I suddenly have the feeling we might be overdressed."

"Allow me to remedy that at once."

They end up helping each other out of their clothes, because Conrad can never say no to undressing Yuuri and Yuuri is no good at sitting idly by while someone else does all the work. But because this is the kind of work they both enjoy, and since neither man is in any particular rush – a sly nip there, a heated kiss there – they are both breathing somewhat more erratically by the time they finish.

Still, Conrad cannot throw away caution entirely. "Yuuri", says Conrad, a serious note creeping into his voice. "If you're too… if you don't want-"

"-You worry too much", says Yuuri. "I'm tired, but not _that_ tired." He spots a hint of uncertainty yet lurking in Conrad's gaze, and tries not to laugh in the face of the soldier's concern. This is who Conrad is. Instead, he deliberately arches so that his body presses, hard and hot and obvious, against Conrad's own.

Conrad is powerless to refuse such a blatant invitation. He gladly ensnares his willing prize, savoring every ragged moan, every involuntary gasp. He worships Yuuri with his hands and mouth and teeth and tongue until Yuuri teeters on the edge, flushed and panting. Conrad is none too far away himself, and when he finally pushes inside, feeling muscles shudder and clench around him, it doesn't take much for them to give into the urge to tip over. They fall: Yuuri jerking and digging his nails into Conrad's back, Conrad surrendering control and stifling Yuuri's cry with kiss-swollen lips as the world lurches and pitches like a rolling sea.

They eventually emerge, the dizziness receding as the world staggers to a stop, slowly righting itself. Yuuri is done in, hair hopelessly tousled and limbs damp with sweat. His smile, though, is radiant. "I love you", he tells Conrad, eyes drooping closed. There is not a trace of self-consciousness there – only peace, and a good, natural kind of tiredness.

"I know. And I you."

Quiet steals over the room, muffling sound. Yuuri looks as though he's already out for the count when Conrad rouses himself, so he tries to move silently as he gets up to fetch a cloth and some water. The king does not stir when Conrad gently cleans him. He cannot protect Yuuri from everything, but he can at least protect his sleep.

If Conrad has his way, he will not wake again until morning.


	59. The Promise

Conrad leans over to brush Yuuri's hair tenderly back from his forehead. The strands are soft and dark as always, tickling against his palm. Yuuri's eyelids are closed, his face uncharacteristically expressionless, but he looks so at peace that Conrad feels as though Yuuri might wake at any instant, blinking owlishly like he always does and grinning sleepily up at his husband. He is still the most beautiful man Conrad has ever seen.

"Yuuri…" Conrad cannot help himself, murmuring the name like a sigh next to Yuuri's ear. But the king does not stir, and Conrad fights the urge to stroke his head again, hold lightly tanned hands in his own larger ones, kiss him until Yuuri finally emerges from sleep. With an effort, Conrad does none of these things and instead focuses on committing every tiny detail to memory – the way the setting sun touches the smooth skin on one side of Yuuri's face to gold, how his eyelashes lie serenely against his cheeks, even the specks of dirt beneath his fingernails. Everything Yuuri is, even those things nobody else would think to notice, Conrad drinks in so intently that for a minute it's as if nothing else exists in the world but them.

Then Gwendal steps forward, breaking the spell by gingerly placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Conrart. It's time."

"I know." His tone betrays nothing but when he moves to finally stand, Gwendal can see the tear tracks that Conrad makes no attempt to hide. Soldier or no, nobody thinks the worse of him for it, and Conrad is far from the only person here with tears to shed.

"Will you do it?"

"Yes."

Gwendal hands him the torch, blazing hot and bright, and Conrad doesn't blink, doesn't take his eyes from Yuuri for so much as a second as he touches it to the funeral pyre. The timber has been carefully oiled; it catches immediately, roaring up and crackling, drowning out the muffled sobs of others in the crowd. Only when the fire has eaten though the wood and begins to lick hungrily at Yuuri's flesh does Conrad close his eyes, falling to his knees and opening his mouth to scream.

_Conrad!_

He awakens with a sickening jerk, the tears still rolling down his face and his hands instinctively reaching out for Yuuri's. They are blessedly warm and trembling slightly in his grasp, and Yuuri doesn't press for an explanation as Conrad frantically touches him, running his hands feverishly over Yuuri's body, reassuring himself again and again that Yuuri is here and very much alive.

"- it's alright Conrad, I promise, I'm not going anywhere, it's okay, I swear it, we're both fine-" Yuuri keeps up a mindless litany of comfort, knowing that the words themselves don't really matter just now, waiting for Conrad's breathing to slow. It's unlike his husband – Yuuri doesn't think he's seen Conrad so rattled before. Whether it's playing baseball or swinging a sword, Conrad has ever been as calm and collected a man that Yuuri has ever known. Yuuri does his best to soothe him now, whispering words of love and willingly offering up his body when Conrad kisses him with a needy, desperate force.

It's still dark outside when Conrad is finally calm again, his head resting atop Yuuri's chest so that he can feel the younger man's heartbeat. Strong and steady, it is a rhythm that eases Conrad's mind more than anything else could at this moment.

"Conrad? Do you want to talk about it?"

Yuuri is still absentmindedly petting him, fingers caressing Conrad's shoulder, and Conrad feels slightly ashamed at his panic. Of course it was just a dream, Yuuri would never…

"Don't die", he says simply. His tears have long since dried up, but the almost painful rawness in his voice tells Yuuri that his reply is important – one of the most important things he will ever say.

And so he draws Conrad in closer, grip tightening and his own voice as firm as he can make it.

"I won't."


	60. Always

**This one goes out to a-kun, who requested a drabble about growing old for my 60****th**** chapter.**

* * *

"Happy birthday", Conrad greeted softly when he saw Yuuri's eyes flutter open. His mouth captured Yuuri's for a moment, gently at first and then more hungrily as Yuuri's lips parted.

"Mmm… this is a pleasant way to start the morning. A little early, perhaps", Yuuri smiled.

"I wanted to be the first to greet you today. Besides, you were already awake. I was just speeding up the process a little."

Yuuri huffed a laugh into Conrad's shoulder. "Then you succeeded. And I'm not complaining – although I hope you will finish what you started before you leave."

"I'm counting on doing just that, husband."

Yuuri's retort was lost in a delighted groan as Conrad reached for him, and their words subsided into hushed gasps and the hiss of the bed sheets tangling about them. The sun had not yet risen and the world outside hung thick and grey, obscuring the sights and sounds of their love making like a heavy cloak.

"Quite the birthday greeting", Yuuri murmured some time later, the sweat drying salty on their skin. He lay in the crook of Conrad's arm, both men naked and unselfconscious in each other's presence.

"Turning sixty is nothing to sneeze at, after all."

"I always pictured myself with white hair at age sixty", replied Yuuri, pinching a strand in his fingers, still as rich and dark as fresh ink.

"I'm afraid you'll have a long time to wait. A century, at least."

"Hm. I don't see any white hairs on you yet. And you're… what, one hundred and seventy six now?"

"Seventy seven."

"And barely a wrinkle in sight. Other than the ones I give you, of course."

"They do say that having a Maou as a lover is the fastest way to grow old", Conrad mused. "And you know, the Consort of the sixteenth Maou was supposedly rather famous for his record growth of white hair at the tender age of two hund-"

Yuuri swatted him as the laughter in Conrad's voice bubbled to the surface. They tussled playfully for a minute, Yuuri eventually giving up when Conrad pinned him beneath his body. "Not fair! I haven't even had the chance to get my breath back."

"We'll have to have a do-over later then", Conrad said, eyes twinkling.

"Is that a threat?"

"A promise." Yuuri shivered as Conrad pressed his mouth close to Yuuri's ear to whisper the words, forcing himself to relax again when the soldier sighed regretfully. "It's almost time for me to get dressed."

"I know." A glance out the window told him the rain had slowed to a near silent drizzle, and that the sky had begun to lighten. "Hey, Conrad? Do you think I would have continued to age like normal had I not chosen to be Maou?"

Conrad looked at him, a little surprised. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

Yuuri shrugged. "No real reason. If I were in Japan this would probably be the year I retire. But I don't feel old."

"By Shin Makoku standards you're still a teenager", Conrad pointed out.

"I'm not sure I feel like a teenager either. Anyway, it makes the whole age gap thing even weirder."

"I'm the one that's going on two centuries", Conrad pointed out. "I imagine that one would raise even more eyebrows on Earth."

"True enough", Yuuri grinned. His smile faded into something more gentle as he watched Conrad get up, eyes following his lover's movements as Conrad retrieved his clothing. "I plan on many more years to come", he said quietly. "So I hope you're thinking about staying by my side a while yet."

Conrad's shirt was still unbuttoned as the older man walked back over to the bed, allowing Yuuri to run his hands over Conrad's chest, feeling the hard play of muscles beneath bared skin.

"More than thinking about it."

"That's good then."

Conrad halted Yuuri's movements, clasping his fingers firmly, eyes trained on Yuuri's own. "And will you stay with me?"

Yuuri did not look away, despite his sudden blush. "Always."


	61. Return

When Yuuri first appears in their world, Josak is determined to hate him.

Although he knows, logically, that this kid – this stupid, naïve kid with eyes only for Conrad – probably never had a choice in the matter, a deeper part of him refuses to let go of his natural instinct to despise him. Not because he is young and foolish, not even because he has stolen Conrad away from Josak, but because the spy just knows that Conrad will wind up getting hurt again.

_You didn't see him_, he wants to snarl. _You didn't see him when he was torn and bleeding and numb from grief._ He wants to grab hold of Yuuri and shake him, punish him for making Conrad smile when he has not the faintest idea what his commander and comrade and friend went through, and never will.

Josak, on the other hand, knows all too well. Unbidden, the memories resurface. He is dragging Conrad home again, half-conscious and making pathetic, whimpering sounds every time his hastily staunched wounds are ripped open. He is watching Conrad whisper to himself, delirious and not knowing where he is, mouthing the name 'Julia' over and over again. He is listening once more to that hoarse scream Conrad makes when Josak pulls him up from where he has fallen in an undignified heap by the roadside, eyes rolling back in his head and hands sticky with blood.

But Yuuri is oblivious to all this, and Josak can barely contain his rage when he sees Conrad easily return Yuuri's affections like nothing of that hellscape ever existed. If Conrad hadn't exactly been happy before, at least he had still had his anger. Yuuri has stripped even this from him. The once proud lion of Ruttenberg has been transformed into a gentle, baseball playing child-minder, meek as a kitten. _How dare you_, Josak fumes, his fingernails digging painfully into his palm with the effort of remaining silent. _How dare you so casually get under his guard and force him to believe in a world that has only dealt him loss in return for his service._

It is not until later, long after his bitter resentment has given way to grudging respect, that Josak sees it. Days and weeks and months after Yuuri has burrowed his way into Conrad's heart, Josak finally realises what Yuuri means to Conrad, and why even now Conrad hasn't given up on a world that has treated him so callously.

It isn't that Yuuri is Julia in another form. The Maou might have her soul, but he is nothing like the woman that came before him, with all his graceless flailing and awkward teenage mannerisms. It isn't that Conrad has fallen in love because of her; it has nothing to do with fate or inevitability.

No. It's that Yuuri is simple and bumbling and soft-hearted, and doesn't look at Conrad with pity or misguided sympathy. It's that Yuuri accepts Conrad for who he is, each and every broken shard of him, and doesn't try to fix him or smooth away the jagged edges.

It's that, Julia's soul or no, Yuuri is true to who he is – and he loves Conrad anyway.


	62. Tempest

**For Sea Queen, who prompted me with 'beach'. At first I was thinking of going with something soft and romantic, but then I figured that since I'd already done that sort of thing also set near the water in chapter 60, I'd try experimenting a little. I still haven't decided whether I like the outcome, but it was interesting to write. Here's hoping at least a few of my readers enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

Their romantic getaway by the ocean didn't go quite as planned.

For one thing, the weather had turned abruptly sour. The wind, which had lain dormant at the beginning of the day, picked up shortly after sunrise. By early afternoon it had whipped up into something harsh and stinging, making the waves beat down upon the shore and sending spray everywhere.

For another, Conrad and Yuuri had been fighting.

Neither Conrad nor Yuuri could have pinpointed exactly why they had been fighting afterwards, or precisely what had triggered it. At the time, all that seemed to matter was that Conrad felt bitter and resentful, while Yuuri was hurt and angry. The silence grew between them as the horses approached the beach. By the time their boots hit sand, it had become a gaping chasm. They stared out at the bleak horizon, where oppressive grey sky met choppy cobalt sea.

It was Yuuri who spoke first, glancing at Conrad out of the corner of his eye. "Now what?"

Conrad turned to look at Yuuri properly, narrowing his eyes against the squall. "It's too dangerous to swim."

"Obviously." Yuuri could have hit himself for making things worse with his aloofness, but was too proud to take it back.

Conrad's jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. "We could go back", he suggested flatly.

Yuuri shrugged. "You can if you want. I'm staying here."

"Not alone, you're not."

"Suit yourself." Yuuri turned on his heel and began to walk along the shoreline, pointedly ignoring the sound of crunching sand as Conrad followed wordlessly behind.

It might have continued this way between them if the wind had not chosen that moment to lash out, howling and fierce. It buffeted Yuuri straight towards the rocks, where waves smashed with sufficient force to shatter marine shell and human bone alike. Both Yuuri's startled yelp and Conrad's shout of warning were lost to the gale, and then Conrad was yanking Yuuri back – hard and fast enough that they ended up on their backs on the ground, bruised and winded.

Yuuri gasped, adrenalin making it difficult to recover his breath as Conrad's arms tightened around him, the soldier's ire lanced with fear at what might have happened.

"Idiot-!"

"-could have handled it my-"

Their words were drowned out again, this time by an enormous crash as another wave exploded over the nearby rock face, and as the wind quietened about them to a dull roar, their mouths found each other's in a heated frenzy of lips and tongue.

Conrad wasn't sure if he was still upset with Yuuri or not, or what had precipitated their sudden, frantic arousal, but since Yuuri's fingers were yanking down his trousers at the same time as Conrad was ripping off buttons in his haste to bare more of Yuuri's skin, he supposed it didn't really matter.

Their bodies met rough and desperately, their usual languor swept away in the face of their fury. Yuuri groaned out something unintelligible, but when Conrad made to pull away in case he was hurting him, Yuuri snarled and dragged him in closer before beginning to stroke him in quick, jerky movements that had Conrad's head snapping back in shock and pleasure.

With an effort, Conrad regained some control and tightened his hold, biting down on Yuuri's neck and making the younger man's breath expel with a cry. They tussled a moment, sand flying and limbs tangling until Yuuri found himself on top and straddling Conrad's waist. He didn't hesitate, grinding unmercifully down and making the two of them gasp aloud. Then it was a race to completion – Conrad's hands on Yuuri's hips, thrusting and drawing him back in with every arch of Yuuri's back, and Yuuri's fingernails digging into the skin of Conrad's shoulders, carving white-hot lines into exposed flesh as his muscles clenched and shuddered. Caught up and hurtled back down to earth in a storm of desire, they shook like leaves in thunder.

By the time their bodies had been drained of their energy, they were exhausted and panting, their anger washed away by the tide. Yuuri did not move from where he had collapsed against Conrad's chest, and when he made no attempt to push himself away, Conrad drew an arm around him almost possessively.

"We are both fools", he spoke eventually to the leaden clouds wheeling above him.

Eyes closed, Yuuri sighed an agreement. "Still. It wasn't an entirely wasted afternoon. If we ever fight like this again…"

"Yes."

The quiet settled over them once more, peaceful this time rather than onerous. Conrad thought Yuuri might even have fallen asleep, until he felt gritty fingers run gently through his hair.

"… Conrad?"

"Hm?"

"How are we going to explain the state of our clothes when we get back?"

Conrad buried his face in what was left of Yuuri's shirt, muffling the sound of his laughter.


	63. Just Breathe

"Yuuri...? Yuuri! What's wrong?"

Conrad's tone of concern at the stricken look on Yuuri's face quickly turned into one of alarm as the younger man put a hand to his chest, clenching the fabric of his shirt in his fist. His breathing quickened as his heartbeat abruptly sped up, thundering loudly in his ears.

"I… I don't know, I… Conrad, what's…" Yuuri gasped, bewildered terror plain on his face as he struggled for air. He panted, unable to speak as fear gripped him, cold and hard as ice.

Conrad was by his side in an instant, cradling Yuuri as he swayed dangerously and half-crouched, half-fell to the ground. "Yuuri!"

"Conrad…!" Yuuri's body was convulsing now, and Conrad could see sweat dripping from his brow, feel it seeping through his clothes. Frantic, seemingly incapable of getting in enough oxygen, Yuuri choked and shuddered in Conrad's grasp, all rational thought leaving him as raw panic set in. He seemed to want to fight Conrad's hold on him or run as the soldier tightened his grip, attempting to keep him still when Yuuri either wouldn't or couldn't respond.

"Yuuri! Calm down, you've got to calm down, Yuuri, listen to me-" Conrad kept up the litany of instructions, doing his best to keep his voice low despite the dread that rose in his gut at seeing his lover like this. Instinctively, not able to detect any physical cause for Yuuri's sudden distress, he placed his fingers under Yuuri's chin and forced him to look up, meeting his wild stare. Yuuri's eyes were huge and dark, the pupils dilated. They looked straight up at Conrad for a moment before darting away again, as though helpless to maintain contact with Conrad's own.

"Yuuri! Yuuri, look at me!"

Conrad dragged Yuuri's face back up again when Yuuri didn't react to the command, one hand supporting the back of his neck as the other automatically smoothed the bangs from his face.

"It's alright, it's alright Yuuri, I have you, try to relax… that's it, all you have to do is breathe, nice and slow for me Yuuri…"

It was like talking to a frightened horse, but Conrad shoved his own fear down, intuition guiding him when every bone in his body was screaming at him to get help, fetch Gisela, search again for an injury he must have missed, blood-

Blood. The thought sparked a connection somewhere, but he let it go for now, wanting to concentrate only on getting through to Yuuri. The Maou had stopped flailing, but perhaps that was only because, lacking in air, he had no other choice but to lie more quietly. Conrad could feel Yuuri's heart lurch, harsh and piercing as a drum. It must have hurt, but Yuuri hadn't tried to wrench away from Conrad's penetrating gaze again. For a moment, all but Yuuri's pained and ragged breathing was silent as Conrad simply held him in his arms and prayed.

And finally, mercifully, a change as Yuuri's heartbeat gradually yet perceptively slowed, still too loud for comfort but regaining some shred of control. Yuuri blinked, eyes refocusing, and Conrad could have wept with relief.

"Conrad…?"

"Sshh, don't try to talk now, just wait, it will soon be over, I promise you. I know it hurts but I love you, I love you so much Yuuri…"

Yuuri's hair was wet, his limbs continuing to shiver powerlessly in Conrad's embrace and his flesh a sickly white, but Conrad did not think he had ever been so thankful in his life.

A panic attack. It hardly seemed plausible – not for his laughing, sun-filled Yuuri – yet Yuuri had shown every sign of it, and Conrad recalled again the stray thought, letting it bubble back up to the surface.

There had been blood, a small casualty from training that morning. Conrad had been examining the wound, shirt sleeve rolled up past his elbow to reveal the slightly messy but altogether insignificant sword cut. A result of a brief careless moment only, and nothing to even need bother with stitching. But Yuuri had walked into the bedchamber, eyes naturally drawn towards the bright red stain flowering to life on Conrad's left arm.

Of course it would have to be the left. Conrad discreetly checked to make sure Yuuri wouldn't accidentally catch sight of it as he continued to watch Conrad, eyes fluttering now as exhaustion laid claim to him.

"Alright? Yuuri, can you hear me?"

"Yes." His chest rose and fell far more quickly than was normal, but Yuuri was clearly back with Conrad, even if his voice was weak and hoarse. "Conrad, what… what happened, I don't remember why I-"

Conrad didn't know either – whether to laugh, or cry, or do both.

He settled for pulling Yuuri closer to him instead, ignoring the chilly damp of his skin and clothing and hugging him tight.

"Nothing. It's okay. For now, just… just breathe."


	64. Growing Up

**This one's for bleachTHEsky, who requested something involving Yuuri going through a rebel/party-going phase. Enjoy, my dear!**

* * *

"Owww…" Yuuri clutches his head in his hands and worms further under the covers so that only a few tufts of black hair are sticking out. The shape of the blankets make him look nothing like so much as a rather large, sluggish caterpillar, and Conrad smiles gently to himself but closes the door very carefully behind him anyway.

"I brought you some water", he says, pitching his voice low, and watches the bed clothes shift slightly.

"… I think I'll only throw it back up", comes the eventual, muffled reply.

"Just a few sips", Conrad encourages him. He tries for a more neutral expression once Yuuri's head finally emerges from his self-imposed cave, but obviously hasn't quite managed it since Yuuri glares balefully at him. Or perhaps he's just squinting.

"You don't have to say it."

"Not a word", Conrad promises.

"Good." Yuuri takes the cup from Conrad and cautiously lifts it to his mouth, grimacing at the effort it takes to swallow.

In the silence while Yuuri drinks, lids now closed against the light no doubt piercing his skull like daggers, Conrad takes the opportunity to study him unobtrusively. The Maou certainly makes a somewhat pitiful figure, skin pale and circles nearly as dark as his hair ringing his eyes. His fingers are clenched tight in pain around the glass, and there are beads of sweat building up on his brow.

Yuuri's fault or no, Conrad remembers all too well the mornings waking up after a night of solid drinking, and doesn't laugh. Learning from experience is important after all, and although Conrad had warned him against carrying on once the party had officially ended, he is not Yuuri's keeper. Besides, if this is all there is to Yuuri's 'rebel' phase of growing up, then Conrad counts himself lucky. There are certainly far worse things than wine to indulge in – as Conrad himself has full cause to know. A headache and a sour stomach are the least of potential consequences.

"Alright?"

"Yes… ugh. No", says Yuuri miserably, and hands back the rest of the water.

"I have some pain killers here as well."

Yuuri sighs, slumping back against the pillows in defeat. "Conrad… I'm an idiot. Why are you being so nice?"

His eyes are closed again, and Conrad takes the liberty of stroking Yuuri's hair back from his forehead. _Because hangovers suck_, he wants to comment wryly, but doesn't think Yuuri will appreciate that in his current state. The next set of words that come to mind is only a half-truth: _Because you are still young, and in place of your parents I've taken it upon myself to care for you._ And besides, Conrad does not have it in him to give such a dispassionate response. Not to Yuuri.

He settles for wringing out a washcloth in the basin he carried here earlier for just this purpose, hours before Yuuri awoke. "Because", he says slowly, dabbing gently at Yuuri's face. "Inexperienced or not, you will always be important to me."

'Inexperienced', says Yuuri, not moving his head from where it has landed. "That's a diplomatic way of putting it." He still looks pained, but there's a shadow of a smile playing about his mouth now, and Conrad is glad of it. He helps ease Yuuri's head up again to swallow the medicine, and then waits by Yuuri's side as his young charge drifts back asleep.

Almost unconsciously, his fingers have moved to curl protectively about Yuuri's own.


	65. Return II

**For Shiary, who prompted me with 'melody'.**

* * *

Conrad opened his eyes to the sounds of a melody – low and quiet enough that it had somehow woven itself into his dreams during the seconds just before waking. He recalled nothing now beyond straining to hear more of it, chasing after the sound like the notes of softly running water.

Then his head shifted as the dream dissolved into droplets and scattered, and he might have felt sad if Yuuri hadn't been the first thing he saw upon stirring back to awareness.

Yuuri wasn't looking at him, and Conrad watched him fuss around the room, still humming absentmindedly to himself. It wasn't often that Yuuri was out of bed before him – not because Yuuri was typically a late riser, but because Conrad was usually up before dawn out of habit, even when he was not needed at the barracks. For a few moments the soldier simply admired the view of his delightfully oblivious and half-naked husband, distracted slightly by the tune. It teased at him enticingly – had he heard it somewhere before?

Then Yuuri turned, blushing a little at seeing Conrad was awake and watching him. "And how long have you been spying on me, sir knight?"

"Not long enough, I assure you."

Yuuri's smile grew brighter. "It's nice to still have you abed for a change. Perhaps I'll bring breakfast up, and we can have the rest of the morning to ourselves too."

"I'd like that", Conrad replied honestly, and reached for Yuuri so he could draw him in for a kiss. It gradually turned into a luxurious tangling of limbs, slow and sweet, and Conrad was powerless to resist.

Still, the nagging feeling of somehow being beckoned refused to disappear entirely. Curiosity eventually made Conrad pull away long enough to speak. "Yuuri? What was that song just now?"

Yuuri stilled, frowning a little in thought. "I'm not sure. Just something that came to me, I guess. A children's song, maybe."

"I think I've heard it before."

"Perhaps Greta… oh! I remember."

Yuuri didn't elaborate further, and Conrad prompted him with a questioning look when Yuuri withdrew, suddenly and inexplicably shy.

"Tell me", Conrad entreated gently as Yuuri made to turn away, embarrassed.

"It's nothing. Only… I think I _have_ sung it to you before. But you weren't conscious at the time. It was after Francia."

"Yuuri." Conrad's expression dimmed. "I'm sorry I made you remember that."

"I'm not."

Conrad looked at him, surprised, as Yuuri took a breath and made himself face Conrad again, answering the unspoken but clear question: _why?_

"Because, my love." Another kiss, firm and unhesitating on Conrad's lips. "It was a song that brought you back to me."


End file.
